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lady-lauren · 3 years

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Call Me Daddy

Pairing: Dilf!Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: daddy kink, breeding, age gap, authority/power dynamics, praise with a dash of degradation, rough sex, mention of bruising, claiming, belly bulge, size difference, creampie

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Well. I don’t know what to say. I have been literally so god damn horny with thoughts of Dilf Bakugou today, so I said fuck it, let’s be bred. Special thanks to @whats-her-quirk for helping me brainstorm and thirst today, and to @mindninjax and @lookslikeleese for reading over it all and giving me the love and validation to know I did Katsuki right 💕

It’s a sweet surprise for Katsuki to find you sleeping on the couch when he returns home. An exhausting night of hero work has left him drained, sans for the adrenaline still snaking through his veins. The sight of you makes his heart hammer in the confines of his chest, his cock twitch against the spandex of his hero suit.

You’re not supposed to be here.

You should’ve been gone hours ago, should’ve taken your cute little sundresses in your overnight bag onto the train after his ex-wife came to collect the rowdy kids he pays you to watch over. Instead, you’ve rolled onto your stomach, throw pillow clutched underneath your face, hem of your dress hiked to where he can see the curve of your ass, the fat of your thighs.

The news is rolling on the flatscreen, accounts of his heroic deeds flashing across the pixels. Your dewy skin catches the colors, blues and yellows dancing across your shoulder blades and sinking between your spread legs.

Katsuki’s hands are itching to touch you. The spaces between his fingers feel empty, eager to touch soft skin and the cotton of your panties.

He debates waking you with a hand between your thighs.

You’ve tempted him long enough, spent nearly a year holding his babies in your arms and running around in your shirt and stupid little thongs in the morning to get them fed and dressed. You’re practically a live-in nanny, he might as well reward you with something special for all your overtime.

He removes his gauntlets and mask by the door before crouching down in front of your sleeping form. The way your lashes curl against your cheeks, how glossy and plump your lips are, how smooth your skin is—it all reminds him how fucking old he is. Grey peppers his temples, crows feet kiss his eyes, he’s got scars lining thick muscles.

How young you are just makes you more appetizing. He could teach you a few things, if you let him.

Katsuki holds his fingers next to your ear, grinning as he sets off the tiniest spark of an explosion in his palm that makes you jerk awake and look at him like bright-eyed prey.

“Havin’ sweet dreams after watching me on the TV, kiddo?”

You’re so startled that your tits are heaving, a strap of your dress hanging limp down your arm.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, sir, god it must be late, I—”

“Save it, it’s fine. And cut it out with that sir shit, you know I don’t like it.” Because it makes him feel old, reminds him that he pays you and has some weird authority over you. The authority part he doesn’t mind, even makes him a bit hard because he’s always loved having a dash of power, but the old part grinds at his ego.

“I was scared when I saw you fighting that villain not too far away. I got worried and started watching the news and I guess I fell asleep.”

“Scared?” he shifts his weight forward on his toes, arm reaching to latch onto the back of the couch, “sweetheart, you’re in my house, ain’t nobody gonna be hurting you here.”

Epinephrine is rushing through his body still, making his ears pound and crimson eyes pool with lust. He’s got you all alone, all to himself, no crying babies calling for your attention.

“It’s past your bedtime, anyway, kid.” But he doesn’t move to let you stand, instead he creeps forward, hand on the couch moving to toy with the strap dangling on your arm.

Delicate as you are, you don’t back away from his advances.

“I’m too old to have a bedtime. Besides, you’re not my daddy.”

“Is that right?”

Katsuki chuckles as he cocks his head, making a show of looking you up and down, gaze lingering on your chest, taking notice of how your thighs are clenched together. You smell sweet, young, like fresh roses in rain and whatever girly shampoo you use. Your nails are pricking into the pillow, anxious, waiting.

He’s played with you a few times before: trapped you between him and the kitchen counter just so he could feel your breasts squished against his chest, touched your knee one too many times whenever he sits next to you, hell, he once even grabbed the entirety of your perfect ass as an excuse to help lift you off your toes to reach a book on one of the kid’s shelves. You’ve never pushed him away, only gotten a little flustered and batted your lashes.

You want him. He can practically smell that, too.

“Well, daddy has had a long, hard day. And he thinks it’s time for bed.”

There’s a retort bubbling in your throat, he knows, but he doesn’t care.

He takes the plunge, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up and over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing. And you do, to him. He’s stronger than you could ever imagine.

The way you squeak a quick “Katsuki!” as he marches toward the stairs makes his pants too tight around his thighs. Your dress bunches around your hips and he’s quick to capitalize, large palm cupping the meat of your ass as he follows the well-worn steps to his room. He doesn’t even consider the guest room. No, he wants you in his bed, where you belong, where you’re going to stay.

“This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? Always bein’ such a good girl and tryin’ to get my attention,” he doesn’t even bother to shut the door, just drops you and lets you bounce on his sheets.

“I think this is what you’ve wanted,” you sit up on your knees and reach for him, tugging him closer by the orange straps on his chest, “always teasing me, touching me.”

He likes the way you giggle, how your small hands pull apart his costume piece by piece. He likes how your nails scrape against his chest when you peel the black fabric away from it.

The scars, pink and marred and arching into the sparse blonde hairs across his pectorals, his biceps, he wonders if they bother you. You seem to pay them no mind, too eager to pry at the green leather of his belt.

Age has taught him to be more patient, but he’s too hungry for you to take your time undressing him.

“Oi, quit it,” he brushes your hands away, following the routine he’s memorized of removing all the clunky bits and pieces of his costume.

You watch him intently, like you’ve wondered what all it takes to get him out of his gear.

“Don’t just sit there and stare, take that fucking dress off.”

By the time your flimsy little piece of clothing hits the floor, he’s naked.

Katsuki crawls over you without a second thought, capturing your jaw between thick fingers so he can kiss you like he wants. You’re so receptive that it makes him groan, lips and legs parting like the fucking sea. He always knew you were submissive, breedable.

You match his pace, meld your mouth against his and arch your back, whiny and greedy like a little cat in heat.

“Oh yeah,” he growls as he rolls his hips between your legs, hard cock nestling against your wet panties, “Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good tonight, sweeheart. Pound a baby right into your perfect little cunt.”

“Oh god, please, that’s all I want.”

One of your legs loops around his side, fingers sinking into his hair and urging him to kiss you again. And again. And again. He loves the way you taste, how your tongue twists around his and your mouth slants just right. Perhaps you’re more experienced than he thought, but he still knows the steps to this dance better than you.

“What a little slut,” he drags his lips down your jaw, finds where your pulse is humming in your neck and sucks, “daydreaming about being bred n’ drippin with cum.”

He likes the way you react to the sound of his voice, tits pressing against his chest and whimpers filling your mouth. Katsuki spends his time with the delicate arch of your throat, drinking in your skin and sucking until blood wells just below the surface. He’s going to mark you, claim you. He’s thought about it so many times, how you’d look so fucking pretty with handprints on your ass, hickies on your neck, wearing them with pride around the house because you’re his.

Your nipples are already puffy, sensitive from dragging along the plush muscles of his chest. He sucks the fat of your breast between his teeth, eyes flashing up to watch your face as he does. Bliss tinges your cheeks, has your lips, wet with his spit, parted and moaning. God you look sexier than he imagined.

And he has imagined this, too many times to count. Fucked his cock into his hand at night thinking of your thighs, thinking of what your tits look like beyond the thin layers of clothes you wear. He’s thought about you whispering daddy please over and over again as he takes anything and everything he wants from you.

“Gonna fill these up with milk,” he soothes your nipple with his tongue, hot and flat. He cups your tit, kneads into the flesh, rough and greedy and it makes you sing. Your panties soak as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He rolls his hips, your slick smearing against his cock, even coating his balls.

Spit clings between your tit and his mouth as he dives for the other, lavishing it in the same attention as the other.

“Oh, daddy, fuck, fuck!”

If he wasn’t so keen on showing off his experience, he’d push you down and fuck into your tight hole this very moment. But he keeps his composure, despite the fact that pre is dribbling down his cock.

“Atta girl, calling for your daddy. Now let’s see how fast I can make you cum.”

The threads of your panties splinter so easily, just a flick of his wrist and they’re ruined. Not like you hadn’t already soiled them.

Katsuki settles between your thighs, grinning so hard it hurts as he spreads the folds of your pussy with his thumbs.

“Can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ this pretty pussy from me.”

He could stare at you all night, watch the way your muscles clench and your slick pours from your tight little hole. Hishole.

You mewl as he runs a knuckle between your folds, uncurling his index finger to toy with your aching clit.

“S-sorry, sir, I—!” He shoves two thick fingers into you, having to bite the inside of his mouth at how fucking hot and tight you are around him.

“I said fucking cut it out,” he plunges his fingers in and out to make a point, “with the sir shit.”

The way you whine makes his cock thump against his lower stomach, all high-pitched and blissed out. Your hips grind down against his hand, one of your hands flying into his hair for stability while the other clutches his pillow. You’re babbling a string of sorry daddy, I’ll be good, promise, promise, and he can’t help but swirl his thumb over your clit and watch how your thighs shake.

Oh he’s going to fucking wreck you.

He doesn’t even have to put his mouth on you to make you cum. Normally that’s his trump card; quick kitten licks over your clit while he curls his fingers just right. But you’re wound tight, so tight he can feel all your walls clenching with every push of his fingers. He’s thrusting hard, fast, purposely pressing against a spongey, ridged spot deep inside of you that has you moaning like a whore. And his thumb is relentless, like clockwork against your clit in perfect tight circles that has you lit like a flame.

Your legs clamp around his wrist as you scream, tummy spasming over and over as ecstasy crawls over every nerve.

You look so pretty when you cum, eyes squeezed shut and your tits heaved to the sky. It’s like he can see the heat traveling over your body, feel the waves crashing over you.

He can’t wait to make you do that again. And again. And again. He’ll make a mess of you, tonight and any night he wants.

“That all it takes?” He chuckles, keeping his fingers lodged inside of you as you come down from the high. You blink a few times and catch your breath, smiling like an idiot.

“You’re good at that,” you muse.

“Of course I fucking am. I’m twice your age, sweetheart. I’ve fingered more girls than you’ve had orgasms.”

You sit up on your elbows and watch him with glassy eyes as he sucks the juices from his fingers.

“Oh I don’t know about that, daddy,” you’re up and moving quicker than he expected, hands on his shoulders as you push him back, straddling him, “I’ve made myself cum so many times thinking about you.”

A hot flash twists through his chest at your admission. The thought of you playing with those pretty tits and burying your fingers into your cunt with his name on your tongue makes his lips part. He grips your hips meanly, strong fingers gripping hard enough to bruise as he pulls you down and drags your messy cunt along the length of his cock.

“Yeah? And what’s a young thing like you doin’ thinkin’ about an old man like me?”

You lean over him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to mimic what he did to you earlier, kissing and sucking at his skin until he groans. Your nails sink into his musculature, dig into his obliques, skim over his abs. He’s not as cut as he once was, but he’s stronger than he’s ever been, spent years sculpting himself into a powerhouse.

And now he’s moaning beneath a little girl, hips rolling just to get another kiss from your cunt.

Your face comes to hover over his, darling eyes taking in the lines of his face. Your hips rise and he bites back a groan at the loss of contact, only to feel your hand grasping at his cock and lining him up with your entrance.

“I think about having blonde babies,” you start sinking down on him and he has to hold himself back from crushing your hips, “think ‘bout being your little whore, your fucktoy you keep locked away in—”

He slams his mouth against your to shut you up, mind already fucking dizzy just from feeling your pussy slowly suck him in.

The moans you release into his mouth drive him wild, make him arch his hips off the bed and spear his cock into your depths.

That makes you fucking scream.

Your palms slam into his chest as you sit up on his cock, sinking down more as he fucks up into you. Head falling back, you keep moaning from your chest, vibrations tingling over his skin. He can tell you want to match his rhythm, but he won’t let you. He keeps his grip tight on your hips, bucking up into you and fucking you just how he wants.

“You love daddy’s cock, don’t cha? Take it like a fuckin’ champ, too.”

And he means it, he can’t keep his eyes off where your sweet flesh takes him in, a ring of cream already pooling at his base and dripping down his balls. He’s mesmerized by the scene of young, pliant flesh sucking him in. Your lower tummy is bulging from his girth, head of his cock visible with every fresh plunge.

“Gonna fuckin breed you, sweetheart. Pump you full of seed and watch you swell with a baby.”

Nails dig into his chest enough to hurt, making him groan. All you do is nod your head in response, too busy trying to keep your breath while he fucks you at a maddening pace. A triumphant, hearty laughs claws out of his chest, so damn pleased with himself to be fucking such a pretty thing.

A tumble of curses rains down from your mouth, smothered by the sounds of his balls barreling against your ass. You’re getting tight again, your clit being pounded by a thatch of golden curls and fit muscles with every thrust he gives you.

“Yeah you like this? Like gettin’ fucked dumb?”

“Ah-ah, yes, yes daddy, yes!”

Music to his fucking ears.

Katsuki needs more leverage, wants even more control. He keeps himself rooted inside of you as he rolls you onto your back, never missing a beat with his thrusts as he changes positions. He sits back on his knees and pushes your legs back, strong hands folding you practically in half so he can watch himself slide in and out, in and out. That bulge in your belly is even more prominent when you’re on your back.

“So fucking good, sweetheart,” he can feel sweat beading down his back, a familiar sweet scent like candy filling the room, “you want babies? My babies? You better start fuckin’ beggin’.”

He loves the way your back arches at his words, tits bouncing and cunt clenching.

A calloused hand snatches your jaw, pulls your face to look at him while he fucks you. Tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes, overwhelming pleasure taking its toll all over your supple body.

“D-daddy please,” your eyes roll a bit as he fucks into you deeper, his hand pulling your hips down so he can grind into you.

“Louder, want the fuckin’ walls to remember what you say,” he digs his fingers into your warm cheeks to cement his point.

“Fuck, daddy, please! Want your cum so bad, want you to make me a mommy!”

Even his balls tighten at your words. Thoughts of making you a fucking mommy, watching you ripen with his child overtake every space in his brain. Your little body is so willing, practically begging for it with the way you’re creaming around him.

Katsuki’s instincts go into overdrive, both hands grasping at your hips and pulling you down with every snap of his hips. He doesn’t even care that sweat is dripping from his brow, that blooms of bruises are welling up underneath hands that look too worn to be on your skin, all he cares about is forcing every ounce of cum from his balls into your cunt.

“Such a good little slut for daddy, aren’t you? Gonna make you mommy, give you babies that look like me.”

He’s racing up that euphoric mountain, can feel it heavy in his shoulders, in his stomach. Your pussy is twitching, squelching, pleading for another release. His thumb takes residency on your clit again, pressing far too hard than he should, but he needs to feel you come undone around him. He deserves it.

The moment you cum again, he loses his goddamn mind. Immediately he has to take his hands off you, his quirk unleashing in his palms as he spurts hot cum into your depths. He’s seeing stars, colors, orgasm shattering over him like an earthquake under the ocean.

He can’t remember the last time he came so hard. His chest aches, heart pounding as he gasps out your name in the last seconds of his release. But you’re not done, your hands have taken hold of his forearms as you keep your pussy sheathed over him, legs closing in around him as you cry out from the devastating euphoria cracking over your senses.

His knees ache by the time you’ve both fallen from your highs.

It almost hurts to pull out of you, cock still raging with blood. Your whimper when he leaves your cunt, like you’ve lost something.

“You alright, sweetheart? Didn’t break you?”

You nod numbly, a too-pleased smile etched into your cheeks.

He’s been around the block enough times to know that your hormones are racing, that it’ll take far more time for you to come back to earth than him. He flops onto his back and throws his arm over his forehead, groaning when he feels you wind yourself around him, tucking one of his thighs between your legs.

Cum drips onto the downy hairs of his leg and he couldn’t be more satisfied.

“Meant what I said, kid.”

You hum and raise your head to look at him, chin tucking onto his chest.

“I’ll give you any fucking babies you want.”

Your laugh actually makes him feel warm, like it’s a sound he’ll never get tired of hearing.

“We have time, Katsuki. Besides, you already have two that I need to take care of.”

His fingers trace circles onto your back before he pulls you in even closer.

“Nah, I’ll hire a new nanny. You have new fucking job.”

#Bakugou smut #Katsuki smut #Bakugou x reader #Katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo Katsuki x reader #bnha fanfic #bnha bakugou #bnha Katsuki #dilf bakugou

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bloodstained-ballgowns · 3 years

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Things I Loved About Black Widow (2021).

*Spoilers*

Yes it’s been almost two weeks since release. Yes I’ve seen it almost three times now. Yes, all my thoughts are still a jumble. Somewhat ordering them for this post will be difficult.

Honestly, the entire first 53 minutes of this movie is perfect to me. Everything about it. The dialogue, the action, the way it’s able to convey so much without words, how it’s just Natasha, Yelena and Mason, everything is just *chef’s kiss*. (This isn’t to say the remaining 1hr 21mins is bad, it’s just not as perfect as the first act imo)

I have a thing for scores and god bless Lorne Balfe he really understood the assignment on this one. If you haven’t already, take a few minutes to listen to his composition, specifically ‘Natasha’s Lullaby’. I love when you can hear a story in music and I think this score does that really effectively.

Nat speaking Russian! Nat speaking Russian! The way she reverts back to it in the opening scene when she’s scared! I wish we’d gotten more of it honestly, especially in the family dinner scene, even something as simple as ‘pass the salt’.

Also, her Russian accent in the Budapest flashback! It was quiet but definitely there, and it showed that her American one was something she had to train herself back into once she defected, which I appreciated.

“I stashed that like five years ago” Is this a canon hint that Nat hoards her food? Maybe?! I’ll take what I can get to satisfy my headcanons thanks.

Natasha and Yelena’s fight sequence in the apartment is the best fight scene in the movie. No arguments.

So much of my inner monolgue while watching was just ‘imsogayimsogayimsogay”. That much leather and that many piercings??! The BRAIDS?? This movie is for the wlws.

Mason you absolute icon I love how much you care about Natasha I love that you’re sleeping everywhere because same. (You deserved better than to be a Taskmaster misdirect). Please turn up in more MCU properties as Yelena’s contact or something.

“But you’re not a mouse, Melina. You were just born in a cage, but that’s not your fault.” THIS LINE!!!

AND THIS ONE. “You took my childhood, you took my choices and tried to break me. But you’re never gonna do that to anybody ever again.” The emphasis on choice vs children, how it’s always been about bodily autonomy instead of the romanticised horror of sterilisation that Whedon went with.

“I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it.” I GASPED.

HONOURABLE MENTION: “You didn’t work in the shadows, you hid in the dark,” (or something). There’s something really satisfying about that line.

Everything about this film is so inherently female, I love it when things don’t reek of testosterone.

I’ve heard some critics say this movie felt really ‘isolated’ and ‘disconnected’ from the rest of the MCU because of the time jump and how many new characters there were and I have to hard disagree there. The appearance of Secretary Ross, name-dropping Tony Stark, and the continued references to the Avengers were not only realistic but also really cemented this oneshot in-universe for me.

*cue me flapping my hands and opening another draft because every separate point is eliciting another two paragraphs of analysis that I absolutely cannot include on this post or it will never end*. Man I love this movie. See the read-more because this is getting longgg.

Similarly, how it actually carries through on a lot of previous set up, mostly from Avengers 1, like with ‘Dreykov’s daughter’ and “thank you for your co-operation”. I got very nervous when they announced they were going to tackle Budapest because a) I didn’t think anything they came up with would ever live up to the hype people gave that line so it would only end in disappointment and b) I’ve never particularly cared, to be honest. (it was a throwaway line in Avengers 1 that was repeated for nostalgia in Endgame in a context that now makes no sense, forgive me for being indifferent) but I actually loved how it tied everything together.

The way it reclaims her from every male creator that’s handled her (fuck the Russos and M&M) while simultaneously keeping the best of what they managed to foster (again, Avengers 1 is a heavy influence, and rightly so, but it gives a fat middle finger to AOU, also rightly so).

How competent Nat was shown to be without being unbeatable. She fully got her ass handed to her a couple of times, and yes, it’s very unrealistic that she was able to go through two car accidents, fall off that bridge, out of that window and then out of the sky without being seriously injured, but we finally got to see the physical manifestations of some of that pain! She was holding her ribs when she got out of the water, the bruises on her back, the dislocated shoulder, and the blood splatters were actual splatters when she broke her nose rather than delicate dabs.

This might be an unpopular one, because I know this was what a lot of people were expecting more of, but I was glad Natasha’s youth in the Red Room was confined to the opening credits. The aftermath of that training and Natasha as a product of it has always been more fascinating to me than the actual event.

As an older sister myself, the dynamic between Natasha and Yelena really struck home for me. Yelena’s pride in Nat and need for approval and validation from Natasha in conflict with realising Nat’s flaws, wrestling with her disappointment, seeing how human Nat is, were perfectly portrayed by Florence Pugh. I could completely relate to Nat, who, despite trying to convince herself otherwise, couldn’t fight her fierce protective instinct and specific brand of unconditional love that only an older sister will ever feel.

A diverse set of Widows!

I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of comics references in this movie. The frame where she jumped through the fire from the Waid/Samnee run, the pheromonal lock.

Now I have my problems with Scarlett Johansson, but I came out of this movie with a lot of respect and a little bit of pride in her. It’s clear that she put her everything into this movie, both as an actor and executive producer. She obviously cares immensely about Nat and how she’s portrayed, and it’s clear from interviews that the things she loves and finds fascinating about Nat are the same as the fans. (I also feel a little bit sorry for the way she’s getting brushed over in the coverage in favour of a new and shiny Florence Pugh, so this is me expressing some ScarJo-as-Natasha appreciation).

A big question I had going in was, ‘Natasha’s always reflecting the people around her, but what’s she like when she’s alone, and has only her own mind for company?’ and this movie really answered that for me. Seeing her out of her suit and wearing clothes that were for her, not for a cover or a mission, seeing her drink beer and eat ice cream and let her hair dry while watching a Bond film she’s obviously seen many times before, it was all perfect. The scenes in the caravan were a huge step for humanising women in action movies.

I’ll probably be adding to this post a lot because this movie will not leave my mind and new things are occurring to me at the most random points.

See my ‘Things I...didn’t like as much about Black Widow’ post here.

#black widow #black widow spoilers #natasha romanoff #marvel #yelena belova #mcu #scarlett johansson #antonia dreykov #melina vostokoff #alexei shostakov #my post #black widow analysis

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iamazonian · 4 years

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Why Mikasa?

“He didn’t share his genocidal plan with her! He seems determined to save Historia from becoming a titan and a breeding machine! He’s literally fighting her squad! Why the heck do you think Mikasa is special to Eren and to the story??”

*bored face*

Simple. He does/says things to her/with her that he has literally never done or would never do with absolutely anyone else, situations wherein even non-shippers cannot immediately say “Well if _____ were in Mikasa’s place, he would’ve done the same thing!”

Most people mention his determination to save Historia from her fate as anti-Eremika or pro-E//H proof, but if they were being honest they would admit that he would have been JUST AS DETERMINED if the one whose freedom being threatened with titan-ship and broodmare-ship were Mikasa. Or Armin. Or Levi. Or Jean. Or Connie. Or Sasha. Or LITERALLY ANY ONE OF HIS FRIENDS. I cannot single out Historia as the only person he would do this for, and even if you ship that, you cannot genuinely tell me that if, for example, Mikasa was the sacrificial lamb that had to become a titan and spit out babies for the plan, Eren would just stand by and let it happen. That he wouldn’t be as appalled, that he wouldn’t be opposing it with every fiber of his being. Same for anyone in the cart with him (you know, the group of people he referred to as the ones he cares about the most?). Historia is the one with royal blood, which means she’s the sacrificial lamb in the plan, which means she’s the one Eren has to protect in the scenario. It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t protect his other friends if they had been in the same position! (And if you say that he wouldn’t protect his other friends like he would Historia, but then claim that Eren abandoning his friends in 138 is OOC, then you’re a hypocrite and I don’t know how to talk to you.)

Then they mention the fact that Eren didn’t “trust” Mikasa (or Armin) enough to share his genocidal plans with them (thus showing them his darkest side or whatever), but he did so with Historia. Uhm, ignoring the fact that he obviously didn’t do so because he knows his genocide plan was horrifying and that Mikasa and Armin would have enough moral backbone to not go along with it, people forget that he also told Floch about this plan. (All aboard the Eren/Floch train then?) :|

(And you know what’s unfair? If Mikasa somehow knew and then went along with his plan to literally kill millions, antis would be calling her a “slave” to her feelings for not standing up to him. But because it were someone else, somehow it’s admirable romantic unwavering support and acceptance? Give me a break.)

BUT

Let’s talk about the scarf scene. Yes, the now-and-forever, punching-a-titan-in-human-form scene. Now, if anyone had been in Mikasa’s place, thanking Eren tearfully and accepting death, I absolutely believe Eren would still have punched the titan. Yes, you heard me. He would have still fought, regardless of the friend he’s protecting. THE THING IS, would he have said those words (or something akin to those words) to anyone else? Basically saying “I’ll be beside you now and forever” --because duh how could he wrap a scarf around someone if he’s not right next to them-- in that ultra cheesy way (that I loved haha)? I mean what’s up with the “now and forever”, Isayama? Or would he have just said something like “Get up, we’re not dying today!” in typical hothead Eren fashion? Will he mutter “No, I’m not leaving you, now and forever” to anyone else? Even if you don’t ship Eremika, if your answer to that is not a super quick and certain yes, if you have to pause and think about it, then even you have to admit that maybe, just maybe, it’s a Mikasa-exclusive declaration.

Let’s talk about the “What am I to you” scene. I don’t even have to explain this. He knew he was about to turn rogue. He was about to become the villain. He was surrounded by a lot of people he loves (the very people in the cart blush scene were there), and it’s his opportunity to find the validation/love/convincing he needs. Whatever his reason was for asking this emotionally-charged question... why Mikasa? Or better yet, why JUST Mikasa? Why not ask them all one by one? Is it really just a situational thing, that Mikasa was there and he just randomly asked her? Or maybe... it’s because he’s looking for an answer only Mikasa can give?

Let’s talk about the blushing. I admit, there is a single scene where he blushes around other people too (the aforementioned cart blush scene that I adore). But there is a common denominator for all of Eren’s rare blushes. I’l give you one guess what/who that is. So far (and with only one chapter to go), Eren has only ever blushed if Mikasa is present. Once in a group, and all the rest to her and her alone. You cannot tell me he would blush for someone else because he literally never has! Considering all the times he had been alone with other characters, been saved by other characters, bonded with other characters, been complimented/praised by other characters... Why would Isayama only ever draw blush lines on Eren for when Mikasa is the subject?

(I have to clarify and say that I don’t think blushing is confirmation of someone’s romantic feelings at all. Mikasa blushed for Historia, Historia blushed for Mikasa, but I don’t believe that’s because they have a crush on each other. I’m just saying, if the reason Eren blushes is because he’s embarrassed/bashful/flattered, then how come he never blushes when he feels embarrassed/bashful/flattered around other people?)

(Also now that I’ve said that, I’m now scared he’s going to be blushing left and right in the last chapter for someone else because I have the worst luck when it comes to final episode/chapter ship confirmations: looking at you, Zutara. :)) )

Let’s talk about the death scene. It was brought to the audience’s attention that no one knew where Eren was. Now, either we say that Mikasa gambled in that moment (in which case daaaaamn girl this is not the time to guess!), or that Mikasa was so smart she figured it out before Armin (usually called the smartest) or Levi (the most experienced) did... or Eren showed her where he was. If you don’t want to accept the last option, I understand. I think it’s obvious but I understand that it’s not 100% specified. But if you’re like me, and you can see no other way for Mikasa to have known his location without him telling her, then that’s another point: Why would he tell just her? Why not Levi? Why not Armin? Why not all of them, like he did when he had that zoom conference call via paths? If Ymir was the one who revealed it, the question stands. Why to Mikasa, and not the others?

(And I’m not even going to delve into all the memory shards and the tuning out Zeke in the middle of such an important moment just to stare at himself wrapping the scarf around Mikasa. I mean, come on.)

I’m a paranoid person, and honestly I don’t want to “celebrate” Eremika’s canonization yet because as much as it really is at this point, it’s not over until the fat lady sings, as they say. Lots of things can happen: Isayama could go crazy, the rug could be pulled out from under our noses and Eren really did turn into a chad, it could be another one of those “let’s build up something so much but tadaaa he’s married and has kids with someone else because our audience can never see it coming and we can feel so smart about ourselves”-- looking at you, Whedon.

But when people say Eremika doesn’t make sense because Eren wants to protect other people... well, that’s like saying my father doesn’t love my mother if he tries his best to save my brother if he’s stuck alone in a burning car. Which is just stupid. Hence the long ass rambling above haha.

#eremika

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genesisrose74 · 4 years

Text

Christmas With the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 2: Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita

Part 1 (Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita) here!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Kageyama

This boy has a secret soft side for Christmas istg

He HATES showing it to other people on his team and shit

But holy bejeezus he is mesmerized by the holiday in every way possible

Lights, sweets, snow, just like,,, the general magic of December is the most awe-inspiring thing to him

Since he is still a sporty and pretty active mofo, you decided to fuel that on your holiday-themed date as Kags had noted that he’d never gone sledding before

Your jaw was on the FLOOR when he first told you because he would 10000% enjoy the hell out of it

And so you dragged him out to this popular sledding hill that you frequented as a child and taught him what to do

Not gonna lie, he was kind of nervous

“Well you’re experienced at it. I don’t wanna mess up”

🥺🥺🥺 bubby

“You won’t, Tobio! I can already tell you’re gonna be a sledding pro”

Feels a little better after that, but he asks you to help him out for his first run down the hill

He sits behind you with his arms secured snugly around your waist and his head nestled on top of your shoulder

Which would probably seem really funny to passerby because this boy is tol and intimidating in most other situations

As soon as the sled started down, Kags tightened his grip and made this cute little yelp of surprise

But you were laughing insanely hard at the combination of going really fast downhill whilst also having your boyfriend cling to you for dear life

And then when the sled stopped safely at the bottom he started to chuckle

FULL ON, GENUINE SOUND OF ENJOYMENT

That shit is rare

Y’all stayed at that hill for half the day because it was so fun

You got him a new, very high quality athletic roller for Christmas because his old one was just not cutting it anymore

And you also gave him this really cute bracelet with a volleyball, his jersey number, and a little strawberry milk set of charms attached to it

It matched this really pretty and subtle chain he’d bought for your birthday

His blueberry eyes got all wide with affection dfjdskfjsdk—

Got super blushy and couldn’t get a handle on his speech for a fat minute

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever no I do not take criticism

Geez you’re both adorable together, ideal “stoic boy becomes warmer during the holidays around his love” movie plot and I love it

Hinata

He is all in on Christmas. Not a chance this boy doesn’t get excited as hell

Will openly go into holiday mode as soon as November is over

Was secretly already listening to his Christmas playlist before then

He is one of the sweetest gift givers, that is FACTUAL

If you want something really badly, he will take notice and get it as your present immediately

He’ll also gift you an extra thing that’s handmade 🥺

Like some pastries that his mom helped him make, or a specially made basket of soaps with your favorite scents in it

It’s absolutely adorable and you cherish those ones especially

Is happy if you simply get him something; mans doesn’t care what it is

New practice volleyball? A brand new sweatshirt? Elated either way

You had seen an advertisement for a friendly match between Japan and Poland’s men’s volleyball teams, so you waited online on the ticket sales website until the minute it opened

Spoiler alert: you got some banger seats 😌✨

Shoyo may or may not have tackled you when he read the ticket details, letting out his excited giggle (you know the one)

“I can’t believe you got these, angel! You’re coming with me, right? You’ve gotta! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gives you sweet little kisses between each individual ‘thank you’

“Of course I’ll go with you, Sho! I’m really glad you like it!”

He will give you the brightest smile of all time — that shit makes Christmas lights pale in comparison

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

RIGHT BACK AT YOU BBY

Hold his hands to warm up together when temperatures drop pls :)))

It’s become a weekly December tradition to watch a Christmas movie with Natsu at the Hinata household

She’ll sit in your lap while the three of you are cuddled under a blanket together, and Shoyo will lace his fingers with yours all discreetly

In conclusion, I am a sucker for holiday Hinata 🥺🥺🥺

Tsukishima

His room is decorated to the very minimum simply because his mom and brother had insisted on him being festive

You know those holiday instrumentals that are really calming and jazzy and stuff? Yeah, that’s the only Christmas music he will tolerate in his house

While he’s still got his usual icy demeanor, this blond bitch does get slightly less snippy with the Karasuno boys

Is always on the nose with getting you the exact thing you wanted for a present

Like,,, TO THE SMALLEST DETAIL

You don’t even have to bring that shit up beforehand, he just KNOWS

“Tsukki, how did you—?”

“It’s pretty obvious, with the way that one ad kept showing up on your phone.”

b r u h

How does he pay such good attention without even letting on??

As for his own present, you’ll usually get him two: one gag gift and one more serious gift

His dino plush collection size is partly due to the former’s contributions this time of year

Yes the dinos have names

You exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve with all the team (you made him go) and he saved your more serious one for last

It was a scarf that you’d gotten custom made, which had a Spotify code knitted into the fabric

Scanning the code opened the app to a playlist you’d created especially for him

He got pretty quiet when figuring it out and scrolling through the playlist

Would let out a certified Tsukki Nose Exhale™ when he came across certain songs

The more subdued reaction was expected because it’s Tsukishima

His little chuckles and warmer eyes were enough of a giveaway to tell you he very much enjoyed your gift

But on the walk home, he took the scarf and wrapped it around you both, and then brought his arm around your waist

“Thank you.”

You deadass almost combusted because it was so unexpected??

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Kei”

Way to respond calm and collected 😌👍

But on the inside your body was in freak out mode

He wears the scarf all the time jdfsklfjdsk

Yamaguchi

Take the most tooth rotting fluff you could imagine

And then double that and put a fucking cherry on top

That’s the equivalent of what Christmas is like with Yama Yama

Y’all are like kids in a candy store — literally

For your Christmas dates it’s all about sweets and shared giggles, so frequent trips to the candy and baking isles of the grocery store is a must

Making gingerbread houses, peppermint tasting (mostly trying those different and wild ass candy cane flavors), you name it and it’s there

Stomach aches? I don’t know her

Yeah you do but they go away with enough butterfly kisses 🥰

Tadashi is exceptionally good at decorating gingerbread houses for whatever reason

He put a poll on his instagram between yours and his final products and he won by a landslide

It’s not like yours was necessarily bad, more like he’s just an icing master

You also might have eaten too many gumdrops which left your rooftop lacking in ✨spice✨

But it’s okay because Tadashi donated some of his leftovers to you

He’s such a sweetheart uwu

Please for the love of everything get him something heartfelt as his present

You know those long distance bracelets for couples?

Basically if your s/o taps the icon on the bracelet it’ll send a little vibration to the other person’s as a notice that you’re thinking about them

This boy seeks constant reassurance, and you love to give him his deserved love and validation, so it was the perfect present

It takes a second for him to figure out what it is, but after reading the directions and testing it out, the most adorable smile erupted on his face

And then since you already had yours on, he tapped the little icon again with a giggle

“Hey there”

It becomes common habit to tap it at least once every couple hours

GOD HE IS SO CUTE

He is just so soft this time of year, give him all the love and he will return it tenfold ☺️

Kinoshita

This boy is absolutely an awkward cutie and an avid romantic

Give him the cliches and he will eat em up, no doubt

It naturally gets more apparent around the holidays

He’ll take you on pretty winter walks, give you lots of little gifts (while blushing a hell of a lot), and is just a professional at stumbling upon some mistletoe

Wow wonder how it got there, Hisashi

He’s quite a bit more confident when simply alone with you than in a crowded space

And that definitely shows when he takes you out on a secluded sleigh ride around town

Yeah you heard me

A fuckin’ sleigh ride

Horses and blankets and everything

Don’t even ask how he managed to pull it off, because he loves watching the cogs turn in your head and simply will not give you a straight answer

Of course there’s the nice driver guy who’s there, but in the back alone Kinoshita’s confidence goes 📈📈

Lots of flirting, tons of skimmed touches and shared giggles throughout the ride

I legitimately simp really hard for him

Anyways it was a gorgeous ride through town and super fun

On Christmas Eve you both exchange gifts together and tbh whatever you got him will leave him happy and flustered regardless

But when he opens the wrapping paper to find an entire set of vintage VHS tapes, he’s stunned

He owns a VHS (actually canon!) and honestly loves it to death, and the fact that you’d get him tapes of pretty high quality for his collection meant a lot

Gosh he’s so underrated but a definite sweetheart, give him all the holiday love

Narita

Another underrated bby 🥺

He’s so chill and is pretty open to anything during the holidays, so long as he gets to spend ample time with you, his friends, and his family

Definitely more of an indoor person despite being accepting of most situations

Hence why you thought a cute little indoor winter picnic would be right up his alley

Which it absolutely was 😌✨ nice work

You’d made plans while in secret communications with his family members about the whole thing

He’d been pretty stressed lately with trying to handle his schoolwork, while also helping out others with theirs

Despite being a wonderful tutor, it was clearly becoming a bit overwhelming as he tried to grapple with so much at once

So when he came home one day to find a pristine house with you settled on a blanket in his living room, he was quite surprised

There’s a cheese plate, soda cans in a cute ice box, sandwiches, snacks, a presparked fireplace — you and his family went all out

Really adorable I cannot lie

“I thought you said you were going gift shopping today?”

“I might have maybe lied :P”

So he gives the sweetest little smile and sits across from you

Y’all stay there and talk for hours

After finally getting through everything previously laid out on the blanket spread, you slid him a little rectangular box that he looked at curiously

“Already? I haven’t wrapped yours yet!”

“Mine can wait a bit! Just open yours”

And so he does, and you watch with a face-splitting grin as he looks down in awe

You got tickets to see his favorite rock band in concert while they were on tour

He sprung onto you and pulled you into the tightest hug ever

“Holy shit you’re the best I love you so much how do you get even more loveable every day—!?!l”

It’s a jumble of words but you’re able to put it together and it makes you giggle

He deadass sprints upstairs to go get your gift and make sure that you feel as equally appreciated as he does

In simple words: wholesome holiday sweetness 🥰

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blessedboo · 4 years

Text

Mop Bucket | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

GIF Credit: @mayans-mc

Summary: The sequel to Complicated - On a shopping trip with your boyfriend, you bump into Angel at the store after avoiding him for a while.

Requested: Yes - @ifoundmyhappythought, @thesandbeneathmytoes, and a few others. Thank you, my babies!

Warnings: Cursing/Language. Sexual (18+ Content, NSFW). Cheating.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Spicy? Absolutely. Headcanon? Not. So yeah, the first part was a HC, this one ain’t - I wanted to give it a little more substance, ya know?

You frustratedly scoured the store’s aisles for ingredients. The task became tedious when most of the things you wanted were out of stock. The lack of help from your inattentive boyfriend didn’t make the situation any better.

Finally lifting his head up from his phone, “Babe, is this cake really that important? I mean, who even is this guy?” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head disappointedly. “It’s for Ezekiel, love. We’ve been over this — you’ve met him!”

Waving his hand at you dismissively, he scoffed. “Whatever. You can’t expect me to keep track of all your friends.”

“It’s one frie-”

As you turned to face him, he started to make his way elsewhere; his eyes still glued to the bright screen in his hand, per usual.

“Douchebag,” you mumbled to yourself.

You couldn’t tell whether the exhaustion started to make you hallucinate, or if you actually heard laughing coming from the end of the aisle. Peering over to confirm your suspicions, a familiar dark-haired, gentle giant stood snickering at you from a few feet away.

Angel.

“He is quite the catch, mi dulce,” he sarcastically acknowledged, throwing a sly wink your way. Your lips pulled into a tight line as you flipped him off. He chuckled, yet a part of him couldn’t help but hurt. He wasn’t offended by your crude gesture, he just missed that attitude of yours.

You had been keeping your distance with him since that night at the clubhouse. You didn’t want to keep leading him on, it just wasn’t fair.

Angel made his way over to your cart, stepping in front of it to stop you from leaving - not before he got the answers he desperately needed. The sound of metal clanging against the shelves rang through the area as you winced.

“Nice. Great job, Angel.”

“Ah, so you do remember me? Amazing. Now, why have you been avoiding me?

“Wh—”

“I mean, no calls, no texts. Nothin’. Fuck is up with that?”

You sighed, dropping your head down. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, no matter how much you wanted to hide from the inevitable truth. He was upset, and rightfully so.

“I-I don’t know. I thought a little space would be good for the both of us,” You confessed meekly, toying with your fingers as you anxiously waited for his response.

Angel stared at you blankly, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. His thumb scratched at his chin as he licked his lips, trying to process what he’s just heard.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to control his temper and choose his next words wisely. “You don’t get to make that decision for me, querida,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “Well, I did it for me. I have a boyfriend, Angel! In fact, he is probably looking for me right now.”

His lips curved into an empathetic frown as he pointed behind you. “Really?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you spun around, your heart clenching at the sight. Your partner was flirting with some blonde in booty shorts. Her hand was groping his bicep, giggling as she copped a feel. Instead of pushing her away, he just stood there smirking obnoxiously, entertaining her sexual advancements by flexing his muscles.

You cleared your throat of the lump that festered within, “They’re … they’re just talking. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Angel flailed his arms in the air, clearly fed up with your bullshit. “Are you fucking kidding me? Stop lying to yourself!”

His raised voice expectedly caught the attention of nosy passersby. To be fair, it wasn’t like they had anything better to do - they might as well bring out the popcorn while they’re at it.

“Shh, quiet down!” You looked around for a spot to inconspicuously talk in private. Not that it mattered anyway, your boyfriend was busy getting his ego jerked off by Ms. Perky Tits over there. Your eyes stopped their wandering when you spotted the janitorial closet, quickly pulling Angel’s arm as you dragged him in there.

You leaned against the door as Angel towered over you, pain and weary written all over his face. He sighed deeply, scratching at the back of his head as he contemplated on what to say.

“You know I’d do anything for you. But I can’t keep playing this game, baby.” Angel reached for your shoulders, rubbing at them patiently as he frowned at you. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t miss me. Tell me you don’t want me … and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You bit your lip as you tilted your head, your eyes giving him that knowing look that told him you couldn’t do that. You loved him more than he knew, more than you could admit to yourself.

Sporting a triumphant, lopsided grin, he cupped your cheek reassuringly. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t resist me. It’s my charm, isn’t it?”

You scoffed, laughing at his frustratingly cute face, “Puh-lease, in your dreams.”

He hummed at your remark before pulling you in for a chaste peck, “I know I’m in yours.”

“You’re so annoying that it hurts, Reyes.”

“Likewise, mami,” he drawled before he licked at your bottom lip. “Yet, you don’t seem to feel that way when my tongue’s sucking that pretty, little clit,” he whispered into your ear dangerously, his lips barely grazing the skin.

“Yeah,” he let out a dark chuckle, a sound laced in sensual mischief. “You certainly don’t find me annoying when I shove my fat ass cock down your throat either.”

You were dumbfounded, completely speechless. You quivered excitedly, stuttering as you tried to let out any sensical words.

“Nrgh. Ang-el, I-”

Before you could continue, his hand snaked around your throat in a light grip. Lifting your chin up with his thick fingers, his thumb parted your glossy, pouty lips as he slipped it in between them. The desire in his eyes set yours aflame with an even greater hunger as he waited for you to suck on it.

“Shh. Damn, baby. You talk too fucking much,” he growled lowly. He nipped at your exposed collarbone, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your chest. His other hand slid down to your ass, groaning as he groped a handful of your ample cheeks.

“That naughty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble — but we both know that’s what you want.”

From Angel’s shit-eating smirk to his filthy language, your panties were ready to drop from how wet they were. No one could work you up like he did, and his smart-ass knew that.

Giddy from this rendezvous, you were on the edge of collapsing. The cause being deprivation of touch. It was a valid diagnosis in your book.

“Angel, please,” you whimpered in a voice so breathy, so needy.

“Would you like to know what I want, baby?”

You nodded feverishly at the question, but nothing prepared you for what he was about to say.

“I want you to walk out there with my cum dripping down your thighs. I want you to go back to that pendejo pretending that I didn’t just fuck the living shit out of your tight, soaking wet pussy. God, I want that so bad, mami.”

At this point, your hormones were on overdrive. You felt sweaty and sticky, and the need for clothes didn’t seem necessary. Frankly, you two were overdressed and you couldn’t understand why it was taking him so long to bend you over the mop-bucket-service-cart-thing as he shoved his cock inside you.

Some things are better left as mysteries. Other things are better left sprawled naked in your secret lover’s arms, but maybe that was just you.

His skin on yours felt electrifying and you didn’t know how much more teasing you could take. However, you couldn’t say that you didn’t deserve it.

And just like that, all of that sexual plasmic energy was gone as he stepped away from you.

“But I won’t wreck your shit in the janitor’s closet. I’m classier than that.”

Angel bit his lip, trying to hold back the laugh while looking at your frozen state; hands shaking, eyes wide and mouth agape. He shook his head, his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked through the door in his usual big-dick-swagger.

“But you aren’t classier than that! You aren’t!” You cried out in agony, but it was no use.

That cunning son of a bitch.

A/N: I DON’T APOLOGIZE ON BEHALF OF ALL THE LADY BLUE BALLS I’VE CAUSED.

____________________________________________

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mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Nightcall P.1

Request/Summary: Kurt is obsessive over a model and kidnaps her, taking her along for the ride of the night.

After

The flurry of phones ringing off the hook and background noise felt foreign to you, it was just a buzzing in your ear. You pulled the safety blanket around you closer, grabbing it in fistfuls. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, but it feels like hours. The fluorescent in the room probably only made you look even worse for wear than you were hours before, but it didn’t matter now. In a span of 24 hours, your life had changed.

The guarded door opened and an officer pulled up a chair in front of you, dropping photos of the gruesome scene you’d seen firsthand. She slides the photos closer, her thumb obscuring the killer’s face. You didn’t need to see it a second time.

“You were found in the residence of Mr. Kunkle, with one Jessie Adams and a John Doe, who seems to have been the victim of Mr. Kunkle’s spree amongst others.”

Even his name brings chills down your spine.

“I already told the police everything.” You say groggily, your throat still sore from the whole ordeal.

“Yes, but there seems to be some doubt on your partnership with Mr. Kunkle. Footage, eyewitness accounts,” she’s studying you no doubt. Any sort of tick or movement you made without thought that could somehow lead her to think you were lying about anything you had explained earlier.

“What was your relationship with Mr. Kunkle?” She pries, bringing multiple photos of Kurt to be splayed out in front of you. Some good, some bad, some….disturbing.

“I - none. He just knew me through the socials.”

“And you were also the target of his mania.” There’s something unsettling in how much she’s liking interrogating you. You ignore it.

“You think it’s my fault he did this.”

It was not your fault. None of this was. Kurt was just too power hungry. Maybe you were too trusting. You didn’t want to see Kurt for what he really was until it was too late.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, but your compliance does seem suspicious.”

“I-I didn’t know him very well. He was just my Spree driver for a day. But he was always nice to me.”

“He was also your kidnapper.”

“Like I said, he was a nice guy.” Your voice breaks.

They’re all nice guys until they aren’t.

“And you didn’t think to call the authorities when you were alone? Were you helping him lure these people?”

You can feel her eyes burning into you.

“I’m not stupid,” you cry. “I know how this sounds. But I’m telling you, he gave me a ride and then he - all of this. Oh God.”

You bring your shaky hands to run through your worn and tired face, specks of dried blood still prominent even through many washes with soap. It’s another way Kurt managed to stay with you.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” she sits back with her arms folded. “And spare no detail.”

Before

He scrolls through your feed for the millionth time today.

Photos of you on your daily walks, exploring hidden LA gems, posting places you were shooting at, people you were hanging out with, all at the touch of a button for him. The bell notification alerts him, telling him that you’ve posted. He taps the screen in the blink of an eye, meeting your face as you giggle about falling while skating.

You pout as you show the damage, remarking that it was lucky you weren’t shooting that day otherwise you would’ve had to cover up on such a hot day.

In a vain industry, you try to keep yourself humble and that’s what he loves about you. Though he’s never met you, he thinks you could live up to the image he’s created of you. One that matches your optimistic and humorous one.

He re watches your story, pausing at random moments where he screenshots and saves to his photos. His home screen is a shot of you in black and white, seemingly topless from chest down and looking back with an enticing smile. He loves the way your hair frames your face, the way pieces of it were meticulously picked out to give it a sort of messy look.

You could make anything look good, he thinks.

Bobby gives him a hard time about you, bragging about how he knows you and that although you’re more well known than he is, you are the one who should be grateful for his exposure.

Kurt thinks it’s bullshit but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, maybe you’d come around to meet him one day.

The vibration of a text brings him out of his daze, seeing Bobby’s name in big bold letters.

He can’t believe his eyes when he opens the text. It’s an off guard video of you behind Bobby, giggling at something on your phone before noticing that he’s recording and flashing a cheeky smile and a peace sign.

“Found your girlfriend.” Bobby mocks before erupting into hysterical laughter.

Kurt replays it until his phone dies, Bobby’s words echoing in his head.

An idea pops into his head, it would be difficult if he didn’t know your exact routine but thanks to your fan accounts and the power of gossip blogs, it’s a definite success.

He calls Bobby immediately, hearing him and his entourage in the background as they talked about a video idea.

“What do you want, Kurt? I’m busy right now.” His annoyance is clear but Kurt is way too focused on you to notice.

“I need a favor.”

It’s amazing what the internet contains about a person. It’s also quite terrifying. Through just a few minutes of research, he’s found out your schedule along with where you went to school, where you live and your closest friends.

In a photo Bobby had taken, the location of the next shoot you had taking place somewhere was barely visible.

He connects the dots, thinking about how your involvement could help him get #TheLesson out and make him a household name.

And it’s exactly what he does the day of. He parks near your neighborhood, foot bouncing and anxiously looking at his phone. He declines the others in hopes of finding you according to the schedule. You almost never use your real name on anything when going out but he recognizes your fake name and location, he puts the car into drive and talks himself up.

He parks across the street, giving him a better view of you.

His heart skitters when he sees you look in his direction, your brows quirk up as you give him an easy smile and cross carefully.

You stop and bend to meet him at the passenger window, “Kurt, right?”

His name coming out of your mouth is something he’s dreamed of since he first saw you. He almost pinches himself to know if this is real.

He knows he’s grinning like an idiot because you laugh at his speechlessness.

“Sorry,” he motions to the backseat, “Hop in!”

“I take it you know who I am.”

You’re not oblivious to your recognition, but with some guys it was just always a hit or miss. They either wanted you to take your top off or asked for some weird things.

“Are you kidding? I’m like your biggest fan.” He beams, going back on the road.

You’re not good at accepting compliments, so all you can manage is a shy smile and a, “Thanks!”

You notice his set up of cameras and ask him about it, to which he says they’re just for protection. Throughout the ride you learn more about him, particularly that he was going something the next day called The Lesson. He had a very particular view about this digital world you both lived in, talking about these odd jobs he’d been doing along with trying to build up his following. In between talking about himself, he mentions Bobby and the events of last night from the video.

“Oh right, Bobby.” You roll your eyes at the mention of his name.

Bobby was a pain in your ass sometimes, acting all high and mighty all the time and just like he was the overall shit.

“Yeah he’s alright. He could just tone it down a little.”

“Oh yeah - definitely, he was the same when he was a kid. Just pure chaotic energy.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

In between other conversations, Kurt brought back the spotlight to you, asking you about different people you hung out with. It was pleasant conversation, you felt like you were talking to an old friend and letting off some steam. The red flags hadn’t gone off just yet.

To let loose and make you live a little, Kurt races past a red light and nearly misses being in a collision.

It startles you but he assures you there’s no danger.

“You trust me right?” He asks, glancing back to you.

“I mean, yeah.”

The confirmation is validation to him. It’s all he needed to begin.

He picks up another passenger, an older man who definitely did not hide the way he was staring at your body. You’re thankful for sitting a little father from him but when Kurt initiates conversation with him, everything goes downhill.

“I know you from somewhere.” The man points out, his obvious staring makes you cringe as you stay silent.

“You’re that model, I’ve seen your stuff around Westwood. Bangin’ body.”

You can feel the anger in your chest rise as Kurt finally notices.

“What’s going on?” He glances to the back, meeting your shifting eyes.

The man ignores him. “Sweetheart when someone compliments you, the nice thing to do is smile.”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I don’t owe you shit!” You grit.

“Whoa! Whoa! Sir you can’t be saying that anymore.” Kurt changes lanes, ready to stop if the situation gets worse.

“She should be proud she doesn’t look like her people. All of ‘em just fat and lazy.”

“Excuse me?! My people?” You’re sure you don’t look the least bit intimidating but it doesn’t matter. You were willing to kick this man’s ass if need be.

Kurt pulls off the the side of the road, “Alright, get out.”

“What? No, I paid for this ride fair and square. I’m not leaving for shit. I can say what I want.” He says adamantly.

“Sir if you make those comments again I’m going to have to cancel the Spree.”

Something clicks in Kurt’s head as he remembers the water bottles.

He motions for you to take the passenger seat which you do without much hesitation.

Kurt waits a minute before merging again, glancing at the man every so often and taking more desolate streets. You don’t notice the absence of cars and you definitely don’t notice when the man takes a bottle and practically chugs it.

Kurt smirks as he slows down. “Hey maybe you should let them know you’re not going to make it.”

Confused, you glance at Kurt and then at the man who’s now starting to grab at his throat and coughing violently.

Your eyes widen as you attempt to get Kurt to stop the car but he doesn’t move, instead he keeps his eyes trained on the road.

“Kurt, stop the car.”

The man’s coughs get worse by the second and he turns a very bright red.

“Kurt! Stop the car!”

You’re frozen, helpless to watch the man as he tries to grab at Kurt from behind but coughs up blood and passes out in the backseat. You slink back in your seat, utterly terrified of what just happened.

Adrenaline and fear course through you. You side eye Kurt who is not as affected by this as you are as he merely readjusts his camera.

You begin to hyperventilate and try the passenger door. When it doesn’t budge you shut your eyes and cry.

“I won’t say anything. I won’t I promise. I promise, Kurt. Please.”

Kurt sighs as he retrieves a piece of cloth from his pocket. Your eyes widen as he comes close and pins you in your seat and smothers you with the cloth. You struggle under him, pushing against his chest to no avail.

The smell of the chloroform inundates your senses and in a matter of seconds you feel your eyes roll back and everything go black.

Once you’re knocked out, Kurt takes both your phone and the other passengers to knock suspicion off of him. He has plans for the racist prick in the back, but for you, he has much bigger plans.

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #spree #haha i'm not dead just suffering from writers block

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jynzandtonic · 3 years

Note

I completely and totally do not mean this to be like a “call out” ask or anything argumentative at all I truly think you’re one of the most kind and compassionate bloggers in the adcu and I know people are going to say that it’s all just jokes/being silly/not that serious, but I feel a bit like the jokes/joking outrage at the new character pics have been a bit much and leaning towards the fatphobic/ oversexualizing Adam side of things. I truly do know that most people are just joking around but as a fat person, I basically took “we wanted hot!professor Adam not this” to mean “this” is ugly and gross. And one of my closest friends in the world has early male balding and quite literally almost has the same hairline as Adam’s character at the age of 27 and it’s his deepest insecurity and he genuinely feels like no woman could possibly find him attractive the more he loses hair, and being on Twitter and Reddit and seeing people’s reactions and mocking of those pics really just reaffirmed that for him. I know people are going to maybe roll their eyes at this and say it’s all just jokes and not that deep but there are a few of us that the comments kind of just put a pit in our stomachs. I guess I just wanted people to maybe take a step back and think about the implications of their words a little more and what’s kind of implied (whether intentional or not) when you say you wanted a “hot” character to lust over and this ain’t it. I know the actual costuming isn’t that great and some have said that’s what their reactions were really about, but I didn’t see many “wow it looks so fake that’s what I’m actually laughing at” posts. There were also a few comments I saw and interactions with your posts and some others saying like “oh no well it makes sense that they made him fat and ugly because the character is a horrible guy” also basically implying that being fat and not meeting our standard beauty expectations for men (and women) = you’re a bad gross person. Sorry for my essay here and being maybe a pain in the ass for bringing this up as I know the comments sort of died down now, but it’s still sitting with Jacob (my guy friend) and I and I’m still feeling very shit about my body (not solely bc of the jokes but they just reaffirmed the negative “you’re gross and undesirable” thoughts I already have) so I felt it was maybe worth mentioning. xxx💕

First and foremost, I want to say thank you for reaching out and sharing your thoughts. Don’t apologize at all! <3 Also, please know you can always always always give me constructive criticism when it comes to stuff like this—I want to do my best to learn and grow.

Your feelings are completely valid and your points are ABSOLUTELY worth bringing up.

To address the photos: with the first round of pics that came out, I personally found the costume to be tacky/over-the-top 80s and the wig to look really unrealistic—the more recent rounds of pictures have changed my mind a bit. My qualms were with the costuming, but I didn’t do a good job of making that clear.

It’s 100% on me for HC’ing him a different way than his look in the film—I think my expectations were in part built around the ‘Charlie Barber with glasses’ look à la Noah and in part how I imagined him in the book, so I was surprised to see something so radically different. I deeply apologize for the ways fatphobia and body-shaming manifested in the way I talked about it.

I’m neither on twitter nor reddit, but I know those virtual landscapes can get truly vitriolic, and I’m so sorry for the icky feelings the posts you saw brought up, too.

Fatphobia is some toxic and pervasive shit, and it truly does carry serious negative implications for how we judge people’s character.

White Noise is one of my favorite books (I’m a post-modernist nerd and DeLillo just nails it for me), and from my reads of the text, I don’t believe Jack’s character is a “horrible guy,” (though I know some disagree) but rather a flawed and insecure man desperate to cling to a sense of prestige and identity in order to give his life meaning. However, I absolutely agree that some have jumped to the rhetoric that there’s a correlational or even causational relationship between being fat/‘conventionally unattractive’ and being a “bad person,” and I, too, find it very upsetting. What you’re saying really rings true.

As for the conversation about sexualization, I think AD is a phenomenal actor and I’ll yell it from the rooftops. I watch his films ad nauseam and will rave about his range and passion to anyone who will listen. That said, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with expressing sexual desire for his characters, and I sometimes think discussion can wander into vaguely condescending misogyny and slut-shaming when people talk about the ways women and femmefolk should or should not experience desire or consume his content. I think it’s more than possible to appreciate him as an actor and indulge in the thirst at the same time.

Again, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for sharing your perspective, sweet anon. I’m sending all my love to you and your friend xoxoxo.

#big hugs to you xoxoxo

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

Resentment Ch. 1 (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 2 months of not seeing each other, Ethan and Naomi do not have a pleasant reunion.

A/N: So...I’ve been writing this for the past 2 weeks. Open Heart 2 is ripe with angst and untapped drama. Tbh, this is my 5th draft, and I kept deleting and writing, and deleting and re-writing this, and I had to step away multiple times, as this was probably be one of my more draining fics to write. But anyway, if you’re still reading this long winded ass note, thank you lol. And enjoy, as always!

Tags: @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @dr-nancy-house @adrian-motherfucking-raines

~v~

Seeing Ethan Ramsey again nearly knocked the wind out of her. It feels like she saw a ghost. But here’s here, at Donahue’s, strolling through the garden as if this is any other night. As if he didn’t disappear off of the face of the earth for 2 months.

Naomi didn’t plan on having such a visceral reaction to seeing him, but she has little to no control over her body these days. Her heart speeds up, beating twice as fast, a cold sweat breaks out, starting at her forehead, and there’s the flip of her stomach and unmistakable taste of bile rising in her throat.

‘Do not throw up,’ she silently begs herself. ‘Do not throw up. Please, keep it together, Valentine.’

The chant doesn’t work, the nausea hitting her hard, like a wave crashing against the shore. She jumps out of her seat, ignoring the looks of confusion from her friends, and makes a beeline to the restroom, pushing past the other patrons at the bar. She barely makes it into a stall before she’s on her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into a dirty public toilet.

Naomi isn’t sure how long she’s like this, embarrassingly clutching the toilet, but a knock at the stall door breaks her out of her trance. “It’s occupied!”

“It’s Sienna,” the voice on the other side says softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door swings open slowly and Sienna attempts to squeeze into the small space. It’s a tight squeeze, but she manages to make it work.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbles weakly. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes I did,” Sienna argues. She helps Naomi to her feet and pulls at the roll of cheap toilet paper. She bunches it up and wipes the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“I feel like I’ve just seen one,” Naomi quips back. “Let’s just say I did not expect to see Dr. Ramsey here tonight.”

“You didn’t know he was coming back?” Sienna asks. “I thought you two were close.”

Naomi thought they were close too. But she got ghosted. It was jarring, going from sleeping with Ethan and openly flirting with him, to him being her boss again, to him disappearing and cutting off all communication within a span of 3 days. “I thought we were too.”

“How do you think it’ll be, working with him tomorrow?”

“I have no idea what to expect,” Naomi replies honestly. “Hopefully the rest of the team is nice.”

Sienna lifts Naomi up, helping her stand on her feet again. They exit the stall and Naomi washes her hands furiously like she’s about to perform surgery.

They walk out of the bathroom, Sienna with a protective arm around her friend’s waist. The rest of their friends are now inside, at their usual booth.

They all stare at Naomi, and she hates it. Now they’re probably going to think of her as the weirdo who threw up upon seeing her boss (an ex-lover, though not everyone is privy to that information).

“You just missed the wildest shit,” Bryce says, almost breathless. “Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Thorne nearly got into a fight!”

That was the last thing Naomi expected to hear. “What?”

“Thorne was being a real creep, and he tried to feel up some young girl. He touched her and she broke his hand!” Elijah exclaims. “He got loud and rowdy, he pushed her down, and Ethan came out of nowhere, swooping in like freaking Batman. I thought he was going to snap Thorne’s neck at one point.”

“Where is the girl?” Naomi asks.

“She ran out of here as soon as she could.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Naomi murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asks. “I’ve never seen you get sick before.”

“Whatever virus is fermenting in your body, please keep it away from me,” Jackie says, not even giving Naomi the chance to respond.

“Jackie!” Sienna tsks in annoyance. “Have some compassion.”

“She’s either drunk or it’s the stomach flu,” Jackie says with a shrug. “She’ll survive a little teasing.”

“It’s okay, Sienna,” Naomi insists. She loves her friend’s protective nature, but it really isn’t necessary. “You don’t have to go into mother hen mode.”

“Fine. But I’m making you soup after work tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Reggie announces last call, and the gang starts talking about their post-bar plans. Be it getting food, going downtown, or just going home. Naomi drowns out the conversation as her eyes settle onto Ethan. His back is turned to her and Naomi notices that he’s the only one left at the bar while Reggie is cleaning up.

“Does last call not apply to you?” Naomi asks, getting his attention.

“Reggie and I go way back. We have an arrangement,” Ethan says simply.

“An arrangement.” Naomi rolls her eyes as she repeats the words. “Is that what you call a friendship?”

“I don’t have friends. But...I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.”

Naomi weighs her options. She can go home and put this night behind her, or she can stay out with Ethan. And actually talk to him.

She turns back to her friends. “You guys go on ahead. I want to check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

She doesn’t believe that excuse for one second. And if her friends don’t believe it either, they don’t say anything. Sienna just tells her to not stay out too late, before they all leave, going their separate ways.

Once they’re gone, Naomi joins Ethan at the bar. She looks at, really looks at him. He’s still the same handsome guy, just more...rugged. He’s much more tan than she remembers, it looks like he’s gained weight—muscle, not fat—and he’s sporting an entirely new look.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey,” she muses.

Ethan looks down at his green jacket, a vast departure from the sweaters and button ups he usually wears.

“This jacket’s been through a lot with me,” he explains, toying with the sleeve.

“I like it.”

She doesn’t miss the way he perks up at the compliment, almost as if he was hoping she’d say something. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Duly noted. And the beard?”

Ethan doesn’t know why he needs her stamp of approval so badly, but the validation she gives him feels nice. He likes to know that she thinks he looks good.

“It looks good on you,” Naomi answers honestly. Ethan scratches the beard, his fingers flying towards it unconsciously at her words. He nods, soaking in her praise.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Naomi looks around as an almost awkward silence settles between the two of them. She’s now actively aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, alone.

“Why don’t we move this outside?” Ethan suggests, some of the tension dissipating. “It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

Naomi’s stomach flips at the mention of alcohol. “You know what I want? A cup of ice water.”

Ethan’s eyebrow quirks up at the answer. They’re in a bar and she wants...water? He shrugs but heads behind the bar, nonetheless. Grabbing a Pilsner glass, he fills it to the top with ice and he also finds a bottle of water. He hands them off to Naomi. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They make their way outside. It’s so quiet now that everyone is gone. It feels peaceful. Ethan drops down in a chair near the fire pit and Naomi joins.

“I can see why you like it here.”

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” Ethan jokes.

“More or less,” Naomi concedes. “It’s peaceful.” Ethan nods in agreement. “So...how was it, being in the Amazon?”

“It was quite the experience. It kept me on my toes.”

“Fighting an epidemic in a different country sounds...thrilling. And scary. You’re brave for doing it.”

Ethan snorts. Naomi always manages to see the best in him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. “That wasn’t bravery.”

Naomi looks down at her lap. “You didn’t keep in touch. Two whole months without any form of communication seems extreme, don’t you think? Especially after everything that’s happened with us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you.”

“192,” Naomi says.

“Huh?”

“192. That’s how many times I’ve called you in the past 2 months. I also sent 75 texts and 30 emails. You could have responded to at least one of those.”

Hearing the numbers out loud makes Naomi feel ridiculous, like a stalker. And Ethan just feels...awful. He remembers his chest going tight every time he saw her name flash across his screen. He remembers the restraint it took him to not call her back, or reach out in any way. He needed to stay away. It was for the best, for both of them.

“Naomi, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever...what is was that we had.”

Ethan probably would’ve been better off taking this glass of ice water and throwing it in her face. The callousness in his voice chilled her to the core. “That’s how you’d describe it? As ‘whatever’?”

Ethan sighs heavily. Of course his relationship with the younger woman meant something to him, but if he was going to be her boss, they needed boundaries. There had to be a line.

“Pouring my heart out to you on multiple occasions and vice versa, secretly saving our boss’s life, you bringing Mrs. Martinez’s son to my ethics hearing, the sex, it all just culminates to a...whatever. What? Is what we went through just a casual experience in the life of Ethan Ramsey?”

“Of course not, but Naomi, I can’t go down this road with you again. We need to have a reset if things are going to work.”

She doesn’t know why the word ‘reset’ makes her laugh, but it does. She laughs, hard, almost maniacally, until her sides hurt and she can barely breathe. Ethan says nothing, staring at her in confusion.

“You know what, Ethan? Fuck you.”

That catches him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear. Fuck. You. You’re a coward. And a runner. You run at the slightest hint of something being hard, or if you have to face your own emotions and vulnerabilities. You run off, drinking yourself silly and keeping your head in the sand, and then you come waltzing back as if nothing happened, but guess what? Life still happens. There is no reset, no do-overs, no pauses. Time still moves forward.”

Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she wills herself to not cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve any more of her vulnerability. She doesn’t know why it hurts so much, but it does. The idea of him moving through life as if what they shared was minuscule and insignificant burns. It causes a sharp ache in her chest she didn’t realize she had the capacity to feel.

“While you were in South America, ignoring the almost 400 pieces of correspondence I sent, I was still here, still dealing with shit, still caring about you, worrying about you and your safety every fucking day. I don’t have the luxury of turning my feelings on and off whenever I see fit, and I don’t get to delude myself into thinking I can turn back time.”

How many times are they going to play this game before she realizes she’s always going to be the loser? She and Ethan get close, he rejects her but leaves just enough space and opportunity to keep her hanging on.

Naomi wraps her arms around her midsection and slightly curls into herself. Not even her own embrace is soothing at this point. The rejection stings, and she feels...stupid. Why does she keep holding out hope for Ethan, hoping he’ll want her the same way she wants him? Why does she keep coming back, waiting diligently like a little puppy, nipping at his ankles for the slightest bit of attention? Maybe she’s just a glutton for pain.

“If you want to hit the reset button, you can do it by yourself. I’m not playing that game with you.” Naomi abruptly stands up, clutching onto the back of her chair for stability. “Goodnight.”

Panic settles in his chest. He doesn’t want things with her to end like this, with her hating him. He wants her to stay. He wants to take back everything he just said. “Naomi, I–”

“Save it!” Whatever he’s about to say, whatever line it is that’ll feed her just enough false hope to keep hanging on, she doesn’t want to hear it.

After gathering her belongings, she turns on her heel, looking for the exit. Her entire body is rigid, defensive and ready to strike at any given moment, and she feels like she’s going to throw up again, which is something she truly does not have time for.

She’s fully prepared to walk away from him with whatever shred of dignity she still has, but she stops herself. She turns around, facing Ethan again.

“I called you a lot while you were gone. I left countless voicemails until your mailbox was completely full. Did you listen to any of them?”

“I haven’t listened.” Ethan feels ashamed by the answer, and he refuses to meet her big doe eyes, opting to look at the ground.

Naomi doesn’t dwell on the answer. She shakes off the hurt, and powers through.

“Last Wednesday, at 5:21 am, I called. You obviously didn’t answer, and I left a message. I’ll set the scene for you because I’ll never forget the moment. I was sitting in my bathtub, crying, almost hysterically. It was the type of crying that gets Meryl Streep and Viola Davis Oscar nominations, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. But I live with 3 other people, so I had to sob into a face towel until the worst of it passed. And then I called you. Logically, I knew you probably weren’t going to answer, but I figured one last Hail Mary couldn’t hurt so I did it anyway.

In the voicemail, I practically begged you to talk to me. To answer at least one of my calls. It was so...desperate. And pitiful. The old Naomi would rather get buried alive than to ever be so emotionally available and needy, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I needed you, I needed solace that I thought only you could give me, but I know now that it won’t happen. You’re way too emotionally stunted and unavailable.”

She inhales, something shaky and full of vulnerability, and every bone in her body is screaming out to just shut the fuck up and turn away.

“But you didn’t answer, you didn’t acknowledge it, and I was just absolutely gutted,” Naomi continues. “Because had you answered that call, or called me back some time that day, I would’ve told you that I’m pregnant.”

With that confession, Naomi visibly deflates. It feels like a crushing weight has been lifted off of her chest.

But Ethan feels the exact opposite. Unable to move, he gapes at Naomi. “You-you’re what?”

“Pregnant. 9 weeks, 5 days. It’s the size of an olive at this point, and before you ask, yes, it’s yours.”

Paternity hadn’t even crossed his mind at this point. He’s still stuck on the fact that she’s pregnant.

“So while it hurts to know what you want a reset, and to pretend we didn’t share anything, it is also literally impossible to do so,” Naomi says with a humorless chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve received the message loud and clear. See you at work tomorrow, Doctor. Oh, and congratulations.”

Ethan watches as she leaves, even though he calls her name, asking her to stay. His chest feels tight like someone is squeezing him from the inside, and he struggles to inhale. The revelation stifles him, and he can’t get his bearings.

Unable to do much else, Ethan falls back into his chair. Despite trying his damnedest to get things back on track, it feels as if he’s made everything so much worse.

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #open heart 2 #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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vinylhazza · 4 years

Note

imagine sending ur nudes to e by accident omg the next day he’d be imagining you naked and eventually you two fuck🥵

oh my gosh you would be lounging around talking to your best girl friend or something, often times sending her your risqué photos when you’re feeling down about yourself. she always has the best hype up messages when you’re feeling like a swamp creature. you’re really just pacifying your boredom from being stuck inside for a ridiculously long amount of time - not wanting to go into the sweltering heat of the upcoming summer. you had a habit of overheating and making yourself sick.

usually you’re good at looking at the contact name before you send something so exposed to her, giving yourself the comfirmation before hitting send. but today just had to be the one day your finger hit the send button too fast, your eyes flicking up in panick mode to read “E ❤️” at the top of the screen.

fuck.

you’re sitting on your bed at this point hyperventilating, about to pass out, dizzy as hell, nauseous, genuinely not good. you’d never sent him anything like those pictures before. and that was the thing, it wasn’t just one it was several pictures of your naked body to your best guy friend. you’re very hot, best guy friend. you look over the set of photos you’d sent: you’re laying back on your bed in nothing but a pair of black lace panties, breasts on display, sunlight trickling across your abdomen and perky nipples, a golden glow touching your skin. the panties were honestly nothing but a piece of pathetic fabric that could be compared to dental floss - you know if you turned around you’re ass would be bare as it could be.

you never had any intention of sending them to anyone - as your not speaking to anyone romantically at the moment. truth is you’ve been hooked on a certain someone for a while. the same certain someone you just accidentally sent your nudes to. how convenient.

honestly i imagine him to be shell-shocked. maybe he was mid-conversation with grayson, unlocked his phone at your notification, and sat frozen and speechless while he stared down at the screen - your breasts sitting pretty for his eyes only. grayson would be pausing at his silence, questioning him on why he’s sitting there like he’s “waiting to catch flies” in his mouth. ethans cheeks would heat to an unbearable temperature, not believing what he’s seeing - his best friend - naked and biting the tip of her fingernail.

throuought both the day and night you hear no response from ethan, total dead silence. it made you more nervous than if we were to send back a simple “wrong number?” or “huh?” ...silence. did he like it? did he hate it? did he just not see it? you knew better than that judging at the read receipt that stared you in the face on the screen, only making you heart race faster.

it was a night of little sleep for the both of you, neither one knowing of the filthy thoughts running through the others head. ethan tossed and turned in his bed that night, knowing he would see you tomorrow for session with grayson. you’re a personal trainer, hence how you met and became so close with the twins. it had been a year since you started working with grayson, not really seeing the reason because he already was well off, as well as ethan. but you never made a complaint, helping and instructing anyway that you can. you became friends instantly, most of the time making it a hangout session rather than a trainer/trainee situation.

you had kept your eyes on ethan since the day you showed up at their house for the first session, breath caught in your throat when he opened up the door with a dazzling smile, lips stretched tight across his teeth. he was gorgeous, you wouldn't deny that. yes, grayson was handsome, and yes they were identical twins - but you fell in love with ethans heart quickly. nothing ever came from it, teasing, friendly banter. it was strictly friends. but you’d always felt something brewing beneath the surface, too scared to let him know you wanted something more. head over heels was an understatement. shit the guy couldn't even hug you without your heart doing flips inside of your head.

you’d given up hope about a month ago, bummed out that despite your subtle advances, he was a lost cause. he showed his love in his own way, trying his hardest to make you see he felt it, he felt all of it. lost in translation, your love was. the hugs became less frequent, the teasing still showed up, but less flirty. it broke him bit by bit until he finally accepted that he’d lost something he never really had in the first place. he backed off, tried to discipline himself to think of you as just a friend - until those pictures popped up on his phone.

there he was, laying in bed with his hand wrapped around himself, eyes glued to the picture of your perky breasts, god you were gorgeous. fuck the plan, he thought, tugging up and down his length with a tight fist - trying to keep quiet in fear of grayson hearing him. across town, you were doing the same - rubbing a hand at your mound, thinking of him thinking about you. you had no knowledge of it actually being true, but just the thought of him seeing you so exposed and dare you say sexy in a set of photos really did something to you.

the next day was terrifying for both of you, neither wanting to mention your little accident first, both wanted to play dumb and just hope it disappeared in time.

until you caught up watching you during your squats, not in a way he has ever before, his eyes were drinking you in. in a hungry way. not observant, not innocent, but dirty. you tried to ignore the wetness in between your thighs, keeping your eyes on grayson, watching his form, telling him to straighten up every so often, cracking a joke in hopes it would get ethan to stop staring at you and laugh along. but he kept his eyes focused on you, knuckles white on the edge of the bench he sat on.

okay, if he wants to stare, so will you.

turning your head to look at him was a bold move, his eyes focusing on your mouth instead of your chest - his bottom lip popping free from his teeth. was he, checking you out? he’d never been so bold about it before. you watched each other close while you continued your squats, eyes trained on his the entire time. you thanked the heavens you put your hair in a ponytail, it was far too hot in this gym and you knew you would look like a monster if your hair was any other way.

“okay...fuck...my legs feel like jello,” grayson giggles, plopping onto his butt after hitting just above 300 squats. you would never recommend doing that many, but he had a weird goal in mind, so you figured if he was going to do it, might as well help him doing it the correct and healthy way.

“mine too,” you agreed, sitting down yourself. with your face as red as ever with ethan’s eyes staring at you, you took a sip from your water bottle, smiling at the cold water traveling down your throat. it felt good to have a hard workout.

“I think i’m going to eat something before we go again, you want something?” grayson’s offering his hand to you, nodding when you shake your head to turn him down. if you ate now you might throw up from the nerves running like crazy through your body, your stomach a pit of butterflies. not the best idea to shove food into the mix.

“i’ll catch up with you in a bit,” ethan speaks up, watching his brother leave the room before turning his eyes back on you.

“so are we really gonna talk about it or are you just gonna stare at me like you've never seen tits before?” bold move.

“why did you send them to me? that is what I wanna know.” he ignores your question, coming back with his own.

“accident.”

“lie,” he challenges you with a cocky smirk, raising from his position on the bench,

“I meant to send them to Amanda, not you, don't get cocky,” you’re really testing the waters, knowing damn well everything spilling from your mouth is a load of bullshit. even Amanda, whom you told of your little mishap, screamed blood murder over the phone, insisting the mistake was in fact fate and not happenstance.

he’s still smirking, standing tall in front of you. he had been pretty much silent through the workout with grayson, off on his own most of the time. you didn't mind, knowing it was probably weird for him at least for now. so you let him be, focusing on grayson for the rest of the day. but this...this was new.

“you’re awfully bold for someone that showed no interest in me any other time,” you point out, shrugging like you made the most valid point ever.

“maybe you read the signs wrong babe.” that fucking pet name.

“i’m pretty sure I didn't. anyways why does it matter? it was a mistake and now we can forget about it and move on know that we’ve acknowledged it,” you nod to yourself. it seems fair considering you're about to burst into flames at how close he’s standing to you. you know deep down you’ll never be able to forget about it.

“I don't think I want to,” he mutters, his seductive tone taking your breath away. looking up at him, only caused your heart to beat faster, he looked serious. you’ve never heard his voice so calm.

“well...you have to. we are bestfriends,” you stutter, standing to your feet in an attempt to back away.

“best friends who like each other,” he drones on, keeping his eyes locked steady on yours.

“fat chance.”

“best friends who want to fuck each other...” he’s inching closer, grabbing at the bare skin of your waist to bring himself closer to you. you almost scream in surprised as his hand comes to clamp over your mouth, arm reaching behind you to crack the door open, staring into the hallway with that same devilish smirk.

“hey gray?!” he shouts, hand still cupped over your mouth. his other hand returns to your side, thumb rubbing back and forth across your skin. you’re surprised at the reaction from your body, your pussy clenching tightly around nothing, the aching becomes less bearable.

“yeah?” his voice echoes from down the hallway, sounding busy and disinterested.

“I think we are out of almond milk, you mind running to the store real quick? please?” his tone has switched to one you know well, the one he uses when he tries to manipulate his little brother into getting his way. you would swat at him if his fingers weren't dancing along the inside of your thigh right now, dangerously close to your clothed heat.

“why can't you?” grayson whines, still far enough down the hallway he couldn't see into the room. if he could...i’m sure he would be just as confused as you are.

“because I asked you,” he points out, chuckling at the annoyed groan he gets in return.

“you paying?”

“it’s not like we have the same bank account or anything fuck face. but you want to use my card it’s in my wallet on the counter. thank you bro.” with that he’s shutting the door, with his hand still moving between your legs, he removes his other from your mouth, instead wrapping it in your hair - loosening your ponytail.

“look at you...so small and innocent...like you didn't send me filthy pictures of you last night,” he hums, leaning close to kiss at your neck, “i bet you touched yourself at the thought of me looking at them huh?” he whispers hot in your ear, tongue poking out to lick at your lobe slowly, sucking it into his mouth before it pops free.

you are drenched, not registering the nod you give him, wanting to slap yourself for being so easy.

“so are we done pretending or do i need to convince you more? he won’t be gone forever.” his fingers cup your cunt through your leggings, rubbing his fingers across you to cause a friction that makes you tense in his arms, grasping at his biceps in shock. his hands feel much better than your own.

you realize how quickly you’re grabbing at the back of his neck too late, bringing him down to seal your lips together perfectly. the kiss is passionate, more passionate that it really should be for being so sudden. it was filled with longing and need, something you’ve been experiencing towards him for quite some time.

he is sighing against your lips, shuddering at how good your skin feels under his fingertips, hungry for more than just a kiss.

he’s growing frustrated quickly, stopping with a huff and holding your face close.

“i wanna talk, i do, about what the fuck is going on. but i can’t wait...need you now,” he explains, eyes never breaking away from your own. you understand his need perfectly, it matches with your own.

“we can talk later,” you nod at him, seemingly giving him the green light to pick you up by your hips with a squeal falling from your mouth. your back meets the semi-plush cushion of the bench press, staring up at your bestfriend hovering dangerously close to your face. he’s got this smile you’ve only ever seen a few times, when he’s so utterly happy he can’t contain himself. it makes you melt to think that this is one of those moments for him. with a quick peck to your lips, he’s lowering down onto his knees, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, pulling down slowly.

“for the meantime...gonna fuck you so good.”

#asks #e!concepts #ethan!concepts #this felt pointless and stupid #but i hope you like it #best friend to lover is my FAVORITE thing of life #if you want me to continue i can

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jaskanetic · 3 years

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22 and 27 OwO

Trans Ask Game

22. Do your neurodivergencies and/or disabilities affect your gender?

🤔 I have a very active mind (I assume from ADHD? The only other mental thing I KNOW I have is Major Depression Disorder, diagnosed at age 12/13. So like depression lol. And anxiety.) But regardless, I am always jumping WAAAAAY too ahead. I'm empathetic too and very emotionally sensitive I think, and all that combined with rushing ahead into the future with my thoughts... Often cause me to get upset over realizing "oh, wait, can't come out yet. Can't do X yet. Can't transition yet. Right. Other stuff first. Ok. Yeah. This sucks."

Like hitting myself with a hammer honestly.

Sometimes, or often rather, I have a bit of dysphoria. Something rubs me wrong, or my active mind reminds me "you have massive tiddies" or "you sound like a 12 year old". Insecurities that remind me my body isn't how I want it to be, yet. And I start to question myself or dissociate. "Do I really want to transition? I don't like my body. I want to. Maybe not? It's been this way forever. Should I? I dunno. Can I handle surgery? Maybe not now. I don't know anymore. What if I'm lying to myself?"

Things like that. Dysphoria things. But I always ground myself, and stick to the decisions I have made up in my head, knowing I'll be happier because of them in the long run.

But yeah. My active, jumping mind has been the cause of many problems in the past. And it definitely affects me in terms of gender as well.

27. What do you do to validate yourself?

Well! There's a lot of little things I do.

For instance, Hair: I LOVE to mess with my hair. I'm sporting a NICE undercut these days, the bit left on the top is long and I always tie it back into a man-bun sort of deal. Makes me feel like a big strong Viking or something. A gladiator. Warrior. Like I'm about to wrestle a bear in the snow and drink beer out of a goat horn.

Not shaving: I never cared for shaving to begin with. I only did so in my teen years because I wasn't fully out, I had a lot of dysphoria after my mom's response to me initially saying I was trans, and I thought the pure act of shaving would make me "acceptable." Y'know. "Like other girls", or "normal", so people like my mom wouldn't vote me out like an Among Us playthrough. Now that I'm older, I prefer not to shave both because it makes me feel more masculine, and because it's a pain in the ass and I just can't be bothered to. :/ I shaved a few days ago. The whole deal. Everywhere but my back. I already have stubble and I itch like crazy. Personally, not shaving helps in two different ways lmao.

Clothes: I get men's shoes. Men's pants. Men's shirts. Men's everything. I buy everything from the men's section at any store. I went to 2 clothing stores today and only hung around either the area with the bajillion frying pans, or the men's clothes. It's hard sometimes, I don't have a binder and my massive chest makes it difficult unless I wear something loose. But, wearing men's clothes feels just so RIGHT for me. I feel comfortable. Free. At peace, in a way. Were as when I put on the jeggings my mom bought me for Christmas, while I appreciate my dump truck ass, I also want to tear them off with my teeth and toss them into a fire. Men's clothes, very good, 10/10.

Natural Form: I'm stocky in body shape. And I'm tall. I have a good mix of muscle and fat, purely because I don't do cardio, so rather than slim out much, my body just stacks more muscle over my muscle under my fat. I have the body of a gorilla. The thundering thighs of a horse if it were an Olympian God. A dump truck ass. The biceps of a man ready to toss someone. The thickest neck in the world. I am always "mistaken" as a man (BLESS) so long as my chest is hidden. I have been told, I have a DAD BOD. I HAVE A FUCKING DAD BOD. And I am grateful for it. I still want to take Testosterone, but sometimes I slap on some shorts or sweats and a good t-shirt and slides, and then the dysphoria evaporates as I take one look at myself and go "ah, yes, a literal chad. A beefcake. A lad. A dad."

Strength: I have gathered a respect amongst my family as being a literal fucking powerhouse. Tasks they would normally have the boys do, they have me do quite often. Especially in terms of lifting things so heavy, that they label as "a job for the boys". And me, I, get asked to do those things. While I am not out to them and they likely wouldn't be accepting, they at least accept I am very "masculine" and very STRONK. Stronger than the boys in the house I think. I watch a male carry the enormous bag of dog food with two hands, meanwhile, here is I, holding that sack with 1 hand and up against my shoulder, effortlessly. Feels great.

Names: Nic. Nic is not my real name, but it's a preferred online name or nickname. Nic is short for Nicay, sure, but when I first came out in highschool, I chose the name "Nikolai", only to doubleback and decide "my birth name is perfectly fine actually, I think I'll keep Nic as like a nickname". And here we are. I know I asked for "Jaska" a long time ago when things were kinda crazy, but that was pure adrenaline rush that took me. Jaska is an oc, and it feels awkward. I prefer Nic, or my real name for close friends/people I've known a long time. (Friends are free to ask about it too if you'd like, I don't mind cx).

This was VERY LONG I'M SORRY but thanks for asking!

Also these are just my preferences! Every trans person's way of dealing with dysphoria and things are valid. You don't have to transition or follow what is considered "masculine" or "feminine". Just be you, do what makes you comfortable. 💜

#THIS WAS A LONG ASK IM SO SORRY AJDHSJD #charmycharmcharms #thanks for the asks!

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mayascherub · 4 years

Text

ethan ramsey x mc fanfic - “dirty pig”

pt. 2 of the ethan ramsey x mc fanfic “I love you no matter how you look. From the beginning, I was attracted to you. Not your appearance”

⚠️ warning: talk about fat shaming, sexual harassment, sexism, misogyny

Tag list:

@drethanramslay @sekizincimektup @ethandaddyramsey @openheart12 @noboundariesplease @caseyvalentineramsey @kaavyaethanramsey (tell me if you want to be added or removed!)

Thank you guys so much for the support! I am glad how much the last fanfic meant for a lot of you🥺

————

The weeks got by quickly. Ever since Ethan had confessed his love for Casey, her brain was only occupied by him. And his by her. It would not be nearly enough to only say thoughts, as every intention, action and dream screamed “Casey! Ethan! Together!” in both of their brains.

It could not be explained exactly how they got through the diagnostic team meetings, interaction with patients and medical staff without sounding and looking completely dumbfounded - but they did, amazingly enough. Only twice did someone comment suspiciously. June had to ask Ethan a question four times before he finally could focus and give her only an mildly adequate answer. Casey giggled, well knowing of the look in his eyes - all it screamed was “Casey”.

Casey was pouring Jackie a cup of coffee in their apartment, being so unfocused on the coffee, since she tried her very best at remaining cool whilst her roommates’ conversation was about Ethan. “Casey! What are you doing?” Jackie yelled as Casey accidentally poured coffee all the way down Jackie’s wrist. “Are you immobile?”

“What? Sorry!”

Now it’s important to state that Ethan and Casey never slept together after their talk, nor did they simply kiss or share any other romantic interactions. Although, his love was confessed and Casey wanted answers.

Casey looked at the door with his name on it for quite a while. Casey, you have to act now. People will think you are paralyzed. She thought and therefore quickly grapped the door handle. Ethan was standing with his arms crossed, looking sternly at a man in his mid-forties.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Eth- Dr. Ramsey”

Ethan looked annoyed at Casey but his gaze quickly softened.

“It’s fine, Dr. Valentine. Dr. Talbot was just about to go”

Ethan waved his hand at the middle aged man and gestured towards the door. The man looked mockingly at Casey and snorted.

“Are you serious, woman? We are having a conversation. Get your ass out”

Ethans jaw tightened, but kept his cool.

“Well Dr. Talbot. Or, now Mr. Talbot I guess. You have received your punishment from Dr. Banerji, I frankly don’t understand why you came to me in the first place.”

Casey swifted uncomfortably on her feet, realizing which man she had met. Dr. Talbot was fired by Naveen, since a patient had reported sexual harassment against him. After that, several of the nurses and a few of the interns also came forward with sexual harassment allegations against him. He was currently on trial, and therefore finding the circumstances of his firing unreasonable - he was now asking Ethan if it could be reduced to suspension, since he wasn’t proved guilty yet. Naveen couldn’t be persuaded into doing it, so Dr. Talbot instead went after Ethan - thinking he would be on his side.

“Well.. Dr. Ramsey. I can’t imagine that you haven’t.. a few times.. made some mistakes, y’know? Mistakes like thinking some women would appreciate some attention, I mean.. they usually do. And then they just blow up with all this sexu-“

Ethans face welled up with so much anger and disgust as he interrupted Mr. Talbot, making Casey able to feel his revulsion.

“No. Mr. Talbot. And don’t you dare make your actions sound like small mistakes. It clearly is a pattern of yours, being extremely misogynistic, disgusting and overly inappropriate. And if you think every man in power is misusing his power and privilege to do such vile actions, you are wrong. Very. Wrong.”

Ethan grapped his arm and shoved him towards the door, making Mr. Talbot pass Casey on his way out.

“Go. And if I see you around here I promise I will fucking punch you.”

Mr. Talbot looked suprised at Ethan, and stopped right beside Casey. He gave Ethan a smirk as he swifted his attention to Casey.

“I see. You are putting on your feminist for this little thing.” He looked at Casey and let his eyes rest on her chest, but continued to her stomach. Casey felt her hairs on her neck rise as she uncomfortably hugged her torso and looked down in the floor.

“Or. Not little. Are you banging this fattie, huh Ethan?”

Mr. Talbot let out a chuckle and looked up at Ethan again. Just as Ethan have had enough.

It was like a little switch inside Ethans brain got turned on. Unfortunately for Mr. Talbot, it was the switch-of-protection-for-Casey. It was only one, but a very tough and quick punch directed right in the middle of Mr. Talbot’s face. Swuush. Continued by a loud bang as he lost his balance and fell to the floor.

“Argh!”

Ethan retreated, coughed and straighted his tie as he opened his mouth.

“And that was for fat shaming.” Ethan bend his knees so he was in eyesight with the fallen man.

“Want one more? You deserve a hell of a lot more for what you’ve put the other women through”

Mr. Talbot finally realized the much taller doctor’s intimidating glance.

“I.. n..no. Dr. Ramsey. I..” he got on his feet “I’m sorry” Ethan also stood up, crossing his arms.

“You are sorry?”

Ethan mockingly snorted and looked to the side, his jaw clenching once more.

“Don’t apologize to me. I can’t use it for shit. Apologize to Dr. Valentine. And after that, you can get the fuck out of this hospital and write apology emails to the other victims. I don’t think they want to see a dirty pig like you again”

Ethan took a step closer to Mr. Talbot and looked intimidatingly down at him.

“I know I won’t”

“I... I’m sorry Casey” Mr. Talbot stuttered and looked scared at Casey.

“Well.” Casey just realized how she had been almost completely silent throughout the whole interaction. She was baffled with Mr. Talbots behavior, but still relentlessly falling more and more in love with Ethan. What felt like just the other day, he was being supportive and body-loving, which made her feel comfortable around him - even though she still was working on her insecurities, it was delightful to know how he felt. She knew she didn’t need his validation, but how his views were, made her able to focus on herself.

Now he had literally punched a guy for her, because - of not only fat-shaming, but also because of his views on misogyny, sexism and the #metoo movement. Ethan was a feminist, and she would lie if it wasn’t attractive as fuck.

“Well. To you Mr. Talbot, it’s Dr. Valentine. I am an educated doctor, y’know. Just like Dr. Ramsey. Only my close friends can call me Casey. Thank you for protecting me, Dr. Ramsey. But I would like to say something myself”

Ethan smirked and looked annoyed at Mr. Talbot as he coughed uncomfortably. “Of course. Sorry Dr.”

“Promise me that you won’t ever do this again. And I will put in a good word with Dr. Banerji”

Ethans face quickly fell as the smirk turned into a confused glare at Casey. But he kept silent as she continued.

“I want you to beg.”

Mr. Talbot just chuckled but quickly realized she was being serious.

“Oooh. Ok.” He scratched the back of his head and opened his mouth once more. “Please talk to Dr. Banerji for me, everyo-“

“No. This is not working. On one knee”

Casey smiled from ear to ear. Ethan tried to hide his, but knew what she was doing. Mr. Talbot was about to refuse, but got on one knee.

“I.. Please. Everyone deserve a second chance”

He held his hands together and begged.

“Ok. That’s quite enough. You can go, Mr. Talbot”

He glanced once more at Ethan but hastily left the office. Casey closed the door and bursted out with laughter.

“As if I would ever mention him again to anyone.. and to Naveen??? Is he mental???”

Ethan just smiled at her and sat down on his desk.

“You did well. I’m sorry if I was being.. a little..” he was searching for the words “Over-protective? Perhaps? I just.. i’m tired of men like him”

Casey bit her lower lip and let out another of her bright smiles. “No! I.. I appreciate it.”

They locked eyes, feeling relieved and lost in each other’s presence.

“So? Ethan the feminist?”

“Yes. And people - especially other men - like to make jokes about it. I am proud of it.”

“You should be.”

Casey knew why she originally entered his office. To find out more about the love for her, that he had declared. But now she couldn’t. She was loving the moment to much to harm it. Casey was not dumb, and she knew her mentor pretty well. It would get awkward and probably uncomfortable if she mentioned their former talk. She knew he wanted to keep it professional. But.. he already told her that he loved her. Why back down?

“I should.. go to my patient” were Casey able to say.

“Oh. Ok. Yes. You.. uhm. Yes” Ethan stood up and turned his back to her.

Both with unspoken words left behind.

#oph #pb #open heart #pixelberry #oh2 #drethanramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #choices open heart 2 #mc x ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethanramsey #ethan x mc #ethan x reader #mc x ethan #ethan ramsey

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alias-b · 4 years

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OKAY. So, I wasn’t gonna dignify this with an answer, but I’m feeling super good and starting my vacation and have few things to lose tbh. I blocked you, but you’ll find a way back if you feel this is really worth it.

You certainly found it worth it enough to slap that anon button to insult me and dress it up as idk ?? being helpful & even kind in your mind?? If you followed my fics, you know the nasty msgs I get monthly so why would I take a personal jab as from a good place? Why would anyone mean to act “holier than thou” ???? Telling me you’re not coming from a bad place....yet you still went anon bc you knew how this read. Hm. Anyways....to answer, I’ll just unpack this neatly:::

1) ???? When did I say ANY of that even in a talk down/negative context??? lmao I even searched my asks trying to find myself being this rude. Slide into my DMs and let me know bc from my POV, you’re blatantly misreading something or making it up?? I’m confused and of course, I’d never want to come across any kind of way like that! If I ever mention young ppl, I mean actual teenagers in fandom spaces that adults get nasty interacting with. Ppl in their 20s/30s+ really need to be mindful about interacting with ppl under 18 and attacking them or being creepy and inappropriate with them/their content. Don’t twist my words.

Ppl who write thin OCs still get hate on their fics lmao, I did. But they don’t get constant hate generally based on their size or race. ((Also like...we’re all aware of fatphobia & racism in fandom and what types of OCs/characters are targets for that...esp if they’re being paired with favs... Writers of color are absolutely also allowed their frustrations with racism in fandom spaces btw too. Do not talk over them. Just listen and be aware. Do your best.))

2) I absolutely DO NOT think I’m better or “more moral/braver” than any other writer on here wtf, I consider myself even “still young” and learning... I’m in my 20s, I’m not a fandom gma trying to police anyone??? As long as you’re living your best life, surrounded by the best content YOU want, go tf off, sis!!! We’re all in a pandemic here trying to get by.

Writing is always a growing process and we’re doing it for free, it’s not perfect and always is a skill that gets better as we do it. I try not to compare myself to others, my fics are mine and that’s IT. I’m allowed to be proud of what I’ve created and I encourage all writers to do the same. A lot of writers are happy and patting themselves on the back for what they created but I’m NOT taking digs or doing it cause I think I’m some brave crusader on a mission. I’m too tired for that bull. I don’t get/want cool points for anything. Have you sent these concerns to any one else for doing the same??? Or are you irked I’m trying to uplift MY fat character?? That I get constant hate for??? More reflection for you.

3) I’ve been incredibly supportive of OCs of all shapes and sizes. I’ve gotten asks shading thin/white “model” ocs and only ever preached patience and support to all oc writers bc it’s never right to bring someone down to lift someone else up. It’s never right to shame a writer not hurting anyone. All OCs are good OCs. That’s the point I always make!! Writing is hard. Finding face claims is hard. Making whole ass humans for a fictional world is hard. So, I’m constantly posting/replying to be open and understanding with writers, whatever they do. It’s their fic. Their characters. Their choices. All OCs are valid.

No one is obligated to make a specific type of OC, just make the OCs you want to see. I don’t think it’s right to hate or shade ANY writer/OC and I make it clear in asks that try to suggest otherwise. Maybe go reread them before slapping that brave anon button again to come from ‘a good place.’

4) Evie is ONE of FIVE OCs I’ve written on this account. And the only plus size OC of them too so IDK why I’d ever act ‘holier than thou’ about a SINGLE OC when the numbers are 1 of 5 here... I’m not gifting the fandom the gift of me, I’m just writing content I enjoy. I’m gifting it to my damn self. There’s no crusade. There’s no BIG STATEMENT UWU. She’s not some political piece, y’all can be so dehumanizing with that toward fat characters or characters of color. Just let them exist proudly. If you don’t like it maybe they’re really not for you!

Evie’s literally just a character I created that I adore. Fat characters exist and they can be whatever we writers want. If people feel represented by her, I think that’s amazing and I so so appreciate when I’m told. It’s a special thing to see yourself represented when you never do in fandom or mainstream spaces!! She represents parts of me too that I’m still learning to love. But if not, I’m sure she’s still relatable. She has a whole personality beyond being a plus size girl bc being fat is not her defining trait. We absolutely should encourage more positive diversity in fandom, esp in main characters. Everyone of all sizes writing about what they look like is awesome! We agree on that point!

5) Evie is one of five ocs. Again. I’ve gotten hate messages and passive aggressive comments for all three of my big fics. Evie has ONLY EVER gotten hate for her size and race. She’s gotten a LOT. ((sometimes her eating disorder, but that’s another issue)) And yeah, it doesn’t shock me. It’s too transparent. People who relate to her don’t deserve that shame either.

I hadn’t even started posting the actual fic before I got my first hate msg about her being an “oc reach bc billy hates fat chicks” whatever. So I think I’m allowed to defend and stan her that much harder and her role in this fic. I think I’m allowed to gush about how much I love her story against all the disgusting hate she gets. I’m not apologizing for that. Me loving Evie super hard has nothing to do with anyone else’s OC. It’s not a mission. It’s not a dig. She’s mine.

**So no, anon, I don’t think I’m doing any big, in your face, public service with my ONE plus size oc. I don’t think I’m better. I think I’m just creating content for myself to enjoy. If others enjoy it too, awesome!! If not, they’ll find something else to enjoy. It’s a big space with lots of amazing writers, I can even direct you to a few!!! I’m happy to do that!! ****If I really had an issue with white or skinny ocs....I wouldn’t be writing them myself which I DO. I wouldn’t be supporting my fellow writers who also write them!!

So you’ll excuse me if I don’t believe that you actually support Evie or me or my fics. All this message served to do was dwindle an author’s excitement for her OC and accomplishments. And you didn’t do that. I’ll try even harder to support fellow writers around me tho!! ^_^

If this is a big misunderstanding bc you misreading asks that I’ve gotten or you misread my tone or remarks anywhere, that’s really not my issue either. IDK, maybe I’m popping off too much too, but this accusation is truly mean-spirited. I know things don’t always translate over the internet well, but I’ve been openly loving and supportive to fellow friends and authors despite anything that’s been said. Even through laundry lists of passive aggressive and hateful messages about my stories since my first fic took off. I’ve seen friends get hate too and I can’t stand that they have to deal with that. They SHOULD be proud of their works always.

I know I don’t deserve them and I know I don’t deserve this either. I know who I am at the end of the day and I know what I put into the world and I know that my fics are mine first. I know my truth and I hope you know yours behind that anon button.

So, thank you for your concerns but please drop them somewhere else and have a wonderful day enjoying the free content we put out. Support your favorite writers and encourage all writers to keep doing what they love and getting better at it! Thanks!!! xoxo :)))

#anon hate #plus size ocs #sis...aren't we tired?#ya girl is feral now and anyways I love Evie and her story and her character.#reply #ask #anon

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petitepistol · 4 years

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CHAIN OF SWEETNESS

5 THINGS YOU LOVE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER.

this is hard because i have to separate elena from how she exists in canon from the elena i have built up for myself in my mind, so in the interest of brevity im choosing to focus on the canon aspects that deeply drew me to her to begin with and continue to feed my fascination and frustration with her to this day

ONE elena is a minor character. like, take her out of the story of the game and nobody would bat an eye. the writers dont really know what they are doing with her at any given moment, so she is this half formed mess of anachronistic traits. that can be really interesting and really challenging to try and flesh out, especially when you factor in how disconnected she is from even the characters closest to her and what those interpersonal dynamics must be like. even among the turks she is an outlier, new to the team and hellbent on diligently doing her job despite not having the same ghosts as the rest of them. before crisis tries to touch on that with her sister, but that just muddies the waters further providing conflicting motivations that they never really address. because, as stated initially, she is a minor character. and that means the exposition is something i have to do, not canon.

TWO despite being a minor character, from a mechanics standpoint she serves a purpose. her first appearance is there to give you an important lead on the big bad, her narrative purpose in the wutai subquest means you get both a party member and a forge fragile armistice with the turks. during the icicle portion if you get knocked out by her, she drops you off in gast’s house, which might mean the devs were using her to guide less skilled players into viewing missable but important lore. this extends to the compilation, where she is utilized off screen for the jenova head in a box debacle, and in before crisis to pad out the plot a little longer by getting kidnapped. from a game design perspective her existence is validated not by good writing but by being a deus ex machina and i have learned to love that as much as i hate it.

THREE she occupies a space where you can throw just about a billion tropes at her and it can work. people don’t usually realize this, but for such bit player you can do a lot with her. also if you wanna write snappy dialogue you can let this girl just say fucking anything. nothing is off limits coming out of her mouth, because there is so little to go off of and what data there is can be interpreted so broadly. that also means you can write her as downright sociopathic or as an unlikely altruist, leaning towards either of the extremes or staying dead center in the middle of the road. the only limitations are that of the perceptional biases of the writer.

FOUR that she is the highest level of the turks in game will never not make me ridiculously happy. i love that this so called clumsy rookie is the most difficult to take out in a fight with the rarest gear. if you wanna hear more about aspect that go here.

FIVE hnnnnng pretty girl who can kick my ass please step on me unga bunga

5 10 PEOPLE ON HERE YOU LOVE, AND WHY.

there are so many wonderful people i want to give accolades too that i often find it hard to do these kind of daisy chains, and even now im cheating by doubling the number. that still isnt enough, so to those who arent on this list i have to say i love you too but the powers that be and my own shyness turned off the mic before the speech ended

ONE forever amused by how both @makeupandmateria and @madamdirectcr are not only incredible to me as a player, but elena as a character. we are in love with this surprising supportive mean ladies coterie. swiftie plays an elegantly dubious scarlet to the hilt and manages to bring out the best in everyone. lottie brings an uncanny sensitivity to scarlet that makes you think while being so sweet and engaging outside of play.

TWO speaking of girls muses supporting other girl muses @heavenlyfighter and @cultivatxr are a dynamic duo and im lucky enough to be in talks with both of them. jessica plays a lovely tifa who has such a melancholy imbued to her strength while not only tolerating my flakiness but being so understanding, while phoe has had a perfect grasp on aerith for what feels like an epoch always letting that same vibrancy spill out into reality.

THREE so @animus-inspire and @urbdev-assistant are two peas of positivity in a pod and i adore them for it. one them plays an understated hero who has the capacity to do great good even when aligned with evil and the other has taken the adage about there being a great woman behind every great man and elevated an npc into a brilliant character. both are fantastic.

FOUR shout out to @missionheartcd and @rude-at-your-service for being not only the best coworkers elena could ever had but being consistently delightful out of character. not only do i want to play more with their characters, i also appreciate their support.

FIVE thank you to @warofthebeasts and @inanisvitae for putting up with my inexplicable affection for sephiroth. kevin is so patient with my persistent poking and prodding and you could not find a more passionate advocate for either character development or friendship than maria.

5 SONGS EITHER YOU OR YOUR MUSE REGARD AS A ‘GUILTY PLEASURE’ THAT ALWAYS MAKES YOU SMILE.

these are mostly mine but may or may not apply to elena from some twisted meta perspective also this was hard because i have no guilty pleasures my tastes is flawless (this definitely applies to elena as well unless we are talking about her taste in men which is terrible lmao sorry im just bullying tseng he is actually pretty cool)

ONE you cannot have this type of lists without ABBA represented and while this is almost a lesser known track of theirs, i have liked it since i heard it in childhood playing through the records my mom owned. the lyrical content is very shinra-core and while i dont think elena ever dated a middle aged fat cat for money as a teen im certain she considered it

TWO as a kid i didnt like the indomitable miss spears because i bought into regressive attitudes towards female sexuality while not recognizing she was being exploited by the industry, but i have grown. elena agrees with the sentiment of “you better work, bitch”

THREE im not ashamed of my love of god queen shiina ringo but at the time i first saw this video i was not prepared for the gratuitous badass lady nurse on sexy female patient malpractice action it featured and that was what made it a guilty pleasure

FOUR everybody loves george michael and that includes me. this piece from his wham! era is almost too peppy, but i am an absolutely a sucker for imagining brutal fight scenes with anachronistically cheerful songs playing over the carnage

FIVE rounding things off is an obligatory recent weeb jam. well half of this combo is american but you know what i mean. i love the combination of classic funk and whispery vocals echoing into an unrepentant cry of “fuck you motherfucker.” coupled with the blonde in the video intercut with the OL being joyfully liberated by her train ride? elena vibes

Tagged: @madamdirectcr @animus-inspire Tagging: you!

#ooc #whew lad im bad at these things because im so shy about tagging others but it was worth it

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some-mad-lunge · 5 years

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What Might Have Been - Malex Fic

Alex leaves Roswell the day after his and Michael’s almost kiss. He comes back for his high school reunion and realizes some things never change, like the way a certain curly haired boy makes him feel. (Malex AU)

This is for @fraudulentzodiacs to make her smile. You are loved darling.

***************************

You can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say? What they should say is don’t go home again. Alex Manes had made that vital mistake, gone home and he regretted it. Why? Because he was sitting in a rented luxury SUV, AC running as he tried to pump himself up enough to get out of the damn car.

He’d had his reasons for wanting to show up his 10 year high school reunion but he couldn’t remember them right now.

Well two reasons actually, only two and he did remember them.

First, to throw a John Hughes style middle finger to the four years of hell he’d had within those walls and the people who’d made it that way.

The second? To lay eyes one more time on the boy that was the only reason those same years were even slightly bearable.

Alex wasn’t usually nostalgic, which was ironic given that he was a songwriter. He was paid large amounts of money to make melodies and prose into art, to make people feel something. It didn’t mean he always saw the beauty in the sunset or in the healing of a broken heart. It didn’t mean he looked backwards at all. He normally avoided it at all costs.

It just happened that his invitation to the reunion had arrived less than 48 hours after his interview with Rolling Stone. He’d been picked, along with nine other songwriters, to be a part of their “Voices Of A Generation” issue. It was a tremendous honour and a validation he’d never known he’d needed until he had it.

It didn’t matter that he had two Grammy’s, countless other awards and chart topping hits. It didn’t matter that he had Beyoncé’s and Taylor Swift’s personal numbers saved in his cell phone. It didn’t matter that he had a house in Malibu and an apartment in Manhattan. It didn’t matter what anyone in Roswell thought about him then or what they thought now, especially not Alex’s father.

No, what mattered was that he'd been chosen by Rolling Stone to represent the voice of the very people who had shunned him back in the day. They had tried to make him hate who he was and had failed miserably in their attempts.

Now they listened to his message, they sang along to his lyrics and that was a fuck you very much he wasn’t going to turn down delivering.

But none of it, not one single bit of it, would have been possible without Michael Guerin.

Alex could still remember it like it was yesterday, Michael’s lips, Michael’s eyes. Warm breath on Alex’s face and the moment of finally before it was gone and the soul crushing love of his life had pulled away before it could even begin. Instead it ended and so did any reason to hang on.

If that hadn’t happened Alex wouldn’t have packed his bags that night. He wouldn't have taken out all his savings, bought a bus ticket and gotten out of New Mexico before anyone knew he was gone. He wouldn’t have sat staring out the window as the dessert went by, not bothering to hide his tears as he wrote “Cosmic Love” in his spiral notebook.

It was a song about a love that you can run from but never leave behind. The kind of love that is everywhere and in everything, that sustains you just as much as it makes you bleed. A love that only two people could understand. The love Alex had always felt for Michael.

The lyrics had flowed out of him in one go, the notes he played the first time at a rest stop under a flickering light at 2:00am.

A song that less than a year later made the gay teenage outcast of Roswell a force to be reckoned with.

If Michael hadn’t taken away Alex’s only reason to stay, he never would have left. Alex felt like he owed Michael somehow for crushing his heart.

It hadn’t been that easy of course, but for once luck had been on Alex’s side. Los Angeles had been the escape he’d always dreamed of. He met people like himself, the outcasts, the freaks and the artists. He’d met boys, and men, unashamed to look him up and down, desire him. He’d been allowed to kiss in coffee shops and hold someone’s hand at the beach. He’d sat in the sand and played his guitar in between shifts at the souvenir kiosk where he’d gotten a job.

He’d been in LA six months when he’d met Jason. Alex strummed his guitar, black polish chipping off his nails, hard cement of the boardwalk under him. Jason, who had a voice like honey, sat beside him out of the blue one day and started singing along. Jason, who instantly became his best friend, and then shortly after became Jason Rast.

Cosmic Love had been Jason’s first single off his debut album, and it changed both of their lives.

Alex Manes might write the voice of a generation but Jason Rast sang it, gave it life. He was the epitome of a rock star with a heart of gold. Fame hadn’t changed him, or their friendship. Or how much he liked to text.

Jason - Have you seen him yet? Did he get fat? I bet he got fat.

Alex - I’m hiding in the parking lot.

Jason - You know you have two Grammy’s right? Fuck those people.

Alex - Why did I want to do this again?

Jason- Do you want me to send a jet to come get you? We could go to Vegas. Adam Levine is there, he always throws a good bender.

Alex - You hate Levine.

Jason - Everyone hates him. It’s like a rule.

Alex - No. I’m going to do this. I can do this.

Jason - MY MAN!

Jason - Let me know if he got fat.

Alex pulled himself out of the car, smoothed the front of his button down shirt. He could have gone full celebrity and worn something designer. That was probably what everyone was expecting of him but it didn’t mean that’s who Alex was. Sure his jeans were probably too expensive by most people’s standards but they made his ass look amazing. He did have to face the unrequited love of his life after all.

He walked through the parking lot filled with cars but void of people. He could hear the music coming from the open gym doors, the muffled voices of his past. The sun was starting to set, casting everything in moody pinks and reds.

For some reason he headed towards the football field. Not that Alex had ever played the sport or even gone to a game unless dragged there. No, he’d spent his time under the bleachers playing his guitar or smoking a cigarette when he should have been in class pretending anyone at home gave a shit about him.

Alex had perfected being moody and pissed about the unfairness of life as a teenager. It had been warranted but it was still a damn cliche.

He finally stopped with his hands in his pockets, took in the spot he’d sat with Maria or Liz, sometimes even Michael, but mostly alone. Just him and his guitar. This place seemed bigger back then, the whole world had.

“Looks exactly the same doesn’t it?” The voice from behind Alex didn’t make him jump, it never had. Instead it slide over him like a caress, heat and smoke, easy to fall into if he wanted. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder.

Time had been good to Michael Guerin. Correction, time had been sucking Michael Guerin’s dick and thanking him for the pleasure. He looked like sex personified, low slung jeans and curls that Alex still wished he had felt against his fingers just one time.

Michael was a little older, a little rougher around the edges but he still made a shiver go up Alex’s spine. It was like being 18 all over again.

“Of all the things I expect to change in this world Roswell isn’t one of them.” Alex smiled through the words. It was Michael and even when breaking Alex’s heart he was still the best thing about this God awful town.

He got a grin back, Michael walking forward so Alex can meet him in the handshake/half hug that seems to be the straight man staple. He felt breath on his cheek for a second so it was worth it.

“I can’t believe you came.” Michael seemed genuinely happy to see Alex, which he had to admit surprised him.

“Me neither.” He’s a liar but no one needs to know that.

“FYI, Isobel has your Rolling Stones cover up on the “Alumni Wall Of Fame.” It’s right next to Marcus Boyle’s USDGC gold medal.”

“USDGC?”

“United States Disc Golf Championship.”

Alex can’t stop the punch of laughter that escapes. Michael always did that to him, made him feel without fear. Alex could laugh or he could cry but it was easy, and it was safe.

“Is the medal in the shape of a frisbee?” Alex can’t help but meet Michael’s eyes, fascinated that they are exactly the same as he remembers them. Exactly like he still dreamed about most nights.

“No, but now that I think about it that is clearly a gross oversight.”

They stand side by side, their snorts of laughter fading into comfortable silence. Their kind of comfortable, with a pop of electricity that snapped between them. Alex would never forget how devastated he’d been when he realized he was the only one that had ever felt it.

He kind of wants to go back in time and give 18 year old Alex a hug. At 28 he’s unsure how to handle this feeling, 10 years ago must have been terrifying. He doesn’t remember it that way. Michael had never scared him, Michael had fascinated him.

“Should we head in?” Alex turned to the gym, as ready as he’d ever be to face the masses, but a hand on his arm stopped him. The fingers are so hot Alex wasn’t sure how he didn’t catch on fire. He had to fight the part of him that just wanted to press those hands to his bare skin and burn alive.

“Or we could hide under the bleachers with the cooler of beer I put there just in case.” Michael’s smile is small, and if Alex has read it right, a little bit unsure. A peace offering? Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t Michael’s fault that he hadn’t felt the way Alex always did.

No, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that Alex had spent most of his life continuously falling for Michael Guerin.

Alex had been so heartbroken he hadn’t realized when he’d run away he wasn’t the only one who had lost something. Michael had been Alex’s ideal, but Alex had been Michael’s friend. One of the choice few. For a moment he was ashamed of himself. But Alex had done what he needed to do for his own survival back then. He shouldn’t regret it now, but seeing Michael’s face, a part of him did. Alex owed him, even if it would probably smash his heart all over again.

“Lead the way cowboy.”

They ducked under metal bars and squeezed through small openings to get to Alex’s favourite hideaway. It was perfectly hidden, right where two sets of bleachers met in a corner. There were two blankets and cooler with a black cowboy hat perched on top. As Michael sat Alex pulled out his phone, took a picture of the initials he’d scrawled in black sharpie back in the day.

AM WAS HERE/QUEER.

There’s other initials now, some with the same message as his. It makes him feel connected to the kids who came after. The ones who hid here just like he had. He wonders if he’d helped anyone feel less alone.

Alex suddenly feels suffocated by Michael’s gaze, like it’s running the length of him in a slow trail. He’s imagining it, he knows he is, but he lets himself.

Finally he sits across from Michael, his legs tucked as comfortably as he can on the blanket left for him. He gladly takes the beer bottle handed his way, sighs after a long sip.

“So Guerin, do anything interesting in the last 10 years?”

And yeah, Michael’s laugh still sends Alex’s stomach into somersaults. Some things just never changed.

*********

They’re three beers in, the initial awkwardness gone. Their legs are spread out in front of them, Alex is mesmerized by the warmth of Michael’s thigh against his calf. It makes him want what he can’t have, but it’s a feeling he’s used to.

Alex is surprised that Michael never left Roswell, never went to university like he planned. He’s cagey on the details so Alex doesn’t push. Guerin doesn’t seem unhappy but he’s also not content. There’s something missing in his life. Alex can tell. They were always the same, the two of them.

They keep it light and easy. Alex shares stories of LA and the lack of glamor. How he enjoys fame without actually being famous enough to be recognized on the street. He’ll be the first to admit his life isn’t as exciting as people think.

Michael catches him up on Roswell and how much everything is basically exactly the same.

“I was sad to find out the museum closed, I thought I would check and see if they had any new displays.” Alex meant it as a joke but he watches something akin to pain flash in Michael’s eyes. Maybe it’s the shadows from the flood lights, or maybe…

“Michael?!” Alex would know that voice anywhere, Isobel Evans on the warpath. The beer had made him loose, or maybe it’s the insanity of the situation but he can’t help himself. He starts to giggle.

Michael shushes him but it’s no use, Alex can hear the click of Isobel’s heels as they come closer. He can’t stop, he just keeps imaging the blonde princess’s face if she discovers them. That is until Michael reaches forward, one hand to the back of Alex neck and the other to cover his giggling mouth.

He freezes, because suddenly he’s overcome with the warmth surrounding him. The fizz in his stomach now a full blown tornado and the sensation of fingers softly digging into his skin. Michael’s eyes are locked with his, and the world just melts away. He doesn’t know if Isobel has left. He doesn’t know if he’s dreaming but he can’t help himself. That was always his problem. His heart has a mind of its own and it’s always said one thing over and over again.

Michael.

He does the most insane and yet natural thing before he can think better of it, and presses his lips to Michael’s palm in a soft kiss. He does it selfishly, for himself. So Alex can say once, just once, that he got to.

Michael’s eyes soften, his hand gone from Alex’s mouth. Instead it palms Alex’s cheek, a calloused thumb ghosting against his mouth. The moan it brings out of him, Alex would be ashamed of it wasn’t the most honest sound he’s ever made.

It’s there, that flash of heat in Michael’s eyes. The one Alex always thought he’d imagined. It’s real this time and it’s everything he remembers.

They meet in the middle, wet and open from the start. Michael’s tongue a direct shock to his dick, already hard and wanting. Alex wants to weep when he finally gets to slide his fingers into that hair, feel the curls catch and release. He tastes like beer and every good memory Alex ever had.

Michael’s hands are greedy and they’re everywhere. Alex feels the imprint of them long after they slide from his shoulders to his waist, a hard tug as they fist into his shirt. Somehow he’s dragged into Michael’s lap, the earth hard on his knees as he grinds down. It makes Alex whimper, he has to lose those lips to gasp for breath and hold on.

Michael’s arms are holding him so tight, a hand sliding up under his shirt, teeth scraping against his neck. It makes his hips move faster, chasing something he can’t even name. They’re rhythm and Michael’s quick movements are going to end him.

Warm lips drag a path to his ear, breath heavy and wanton. “Always knew it would be like this.”

It sends shockwaves through Alex, digs in deep, the reality that he hadn’t been the only one all those years ago. That he isn’t the only one currently drowning now.

“Michael…”

He’s grasped tighter, held fast and whatever he was about to say disappears. They’re lined up perfectly and Alex has never hated denim more in his life. He wants to slow this down, take his time. He wants to imprint everything to memory, horde it for the lonely nights that are sure to follow. Michael won’t let him, maybe he can’t. It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

Alex needs to kiss him again, so he does. They’re too out of breath, too keyed up. They’re just panting into each other’s mouths and lighting the world on fire. It’s all happening so fast, years of feeling focused into right here and right now.

He’s so close, he’s so fucking close to dying and he can’t get their soon enough. Michael bites Alex’s bottom lip, pain and pleasure and everything in between. He forces his gaze to stay on Michael’s face, that fierce look of possession mixed with awe. Every dream Alex ever had paled in comparison to the real thing.

“Come on baby. I’ve waited a decade for this, don’t deny me now.”

That’s all it takes, the demand in Michael’s words and what they really mean. It’s pulled out of Alex, like a gut punch of galaxies, the burn of the sun. He’s not alone, he feels all of it. Michael’s pleasure, his own eternity and bliss, quakes with it in every nerve ending.

Finally he floats back down, weightless and perfect. His arms still wrapped around Michael, his face pressed into soft flannel. He never wants to let go. Hands are still clutched into his skin. Unheard words are whispered into his shoulder. Alex just tries to relearn how to breathe.

It’s fingers on his face that finally has him moving again, their foreheads pressed together.

“What the fuck was that?” Alex kisses it into Michael’s mouth, in awe of how much he still wants him. How much he always has, how much he always will.

Michael pulls back, runs his thumbs over Alex’s cheeks. His eyes are bright and brilliant, his voice clearer than it has any right to be.

“Cosmic Love.”

Alex stills for a second, has to close his own eyes from what it makes him feel. He never thought Michael would know the song was about him. He should of, of course he should have, who else could it have ever been?

“I went looking for you the next day. Searched everywhere. If I could go back...” Michael’s looking at him like he used to, another thing Alex hadn’t imagined after all. “I knew you’d leave Alex, but you were always supposed to take me with you.”

Alex sees it all in Michael's eyes, all the loneliness and pain of the past reflected back at him. So much regret it breaks his heart all over again. Only this time, this time Alex gets to do it right.

“How quickly can you pack?” He means it, God does Alex mean it. Presses his lips all over Michael’s face, soft and sweet. Years of love he finally gets to show, to give to the boy who helped Alex survive. Now the man he still feels every bit of it for.

Michael stops his caresses, something shutters in his eyes and it hurts. Alex feels the world start to cave in. He tries to pull away, because he can’t lose this again. Not after what they just shared, he won’t survive it.

“No, don’t.” Michael holds fast, searches Alex’s face. “I just need to tell you something first. It might...it could change things.”

“It won’t.” Alex knows it couldn’t.

“Alex…”

He runs his fingers through curls, revels in finally being allowed to.

“I promise you, it won’t.”

They’re still pressed together under the bleachers when Alex learns the truth. It should shock him, it should scare him. It doesn’t, not even a little. He just listens and he believes and none of it matters.

It’s Michael and him, it’s them and what they’ve always been. It’s cosmic, and now Alex knows why.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #fan fiction #shauna's roswell fic #AU #I call this smutty fluff #SMUFF #anyway I hope it makes you smile #roswell fic

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